


Snake Pit

by EvilDime



Series: Graduation Speech [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, BDSM themes, Betrayal, Challenge Response, Child Abuse, Dark Harry, Dark Lords incapable of being Evil, Fluff and Angst, Life-affirming, M/M, Mind Rape, Plenty of Apparent Character Deaths, Silly, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDime/pseuds/EvilDime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Graduation Speech". Harry takes revenge against his former friends, the Dursleys, Dumbledore - everyone who ever ticked him off, really - and learns that holding a grudge is hard work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Number Four, Privet Drive

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of my German fic "Schlangengrube", written some 8 years ago, prompted by a challenge by Puh-Schell to continue her "Abschlussrede" (Graduation Speech)... Old one, and has some minor logic issues, chapter length varies wildly, and so on. I still think it's fun, though. Hope you'll agree. ^^
> 
> Please note: while this is rated 'explicit', there will be only a few explicit scenes in later chapters; don't be disappointed, please. Also, the BDSM themes feature more heavily in a particular performance put on for the sole benefit of one prude cfc than in said explicit scenes. If you want explicit BDSM, let me know, and I'll cross-post "Malfoy Manor" over here, as well, which is about as explicit as my writing gets. ;)

* * *

 

_So where do we begin_   
_And what else can we say?_   
_When the lines are all drawn_   
_What should we do today?_

_-Fates Warning, A pleasant shade of grey_

* * *

"…and then that swollen-headed division manager had the gall to tell me -" Vernon Dursley was interrupted mid-phrase by the sound of the door bell. He frowned. Who might have any business with them at 7 pm on a Friday night? It couldn't be Dudley, he'd gone to Amsterdam for the weekend with his friend Piers Polkiss.

While Petunia got up and went to open the door, Vernon pensively lowered the digit he had been wildly waving around during his tale the better to express his outrage at the afore-mentioned division manager. He still could not understand that they had promoted Leech and not him.

Darkly pondering the unfairness of life, the large man sat at the table - until a scream from his wife nearly made him fall from his stool in shock.

"YOU?! What do you want? You no longer have any business here! Get you gone, or I will call the -"

Petunia Dursley broke off abruptly. Vernon, who had finally managed to get up and follow her into the hall, saw that her lips kept moving; but no longer was there any sound.

"The police, you meant to say?" a cold, derisive voice could be heard. Petunia retreated, white-faced, thus opening Vernon's view on the door. "But that really isn't nice of you at all, _dearest aunt_."

Vernon's eyes widened in fear when he recognized the man stepping through his door.

Harry Potter.

No longer the browbeaten little boy who had lived in their house for so many years, in front of Vernon now stood a grown man, a dangerous wizard, whose voice attested to his deep hatred and whose eyes held a dangerous power, a sense of barely-restrained vengefulness glowering in their depth.

Vernon Dursley pulled himself together, this was still his ill-bred nephew.

"Boy, what do you think you're doing, coming back here? As I remember, you personally told us a year ago that you would never darken our doorstep again. So what do you want?" Vernon said in what he hoped was a firm and intimidating voice.

The man in front of him was not impressed.

"I had, in fact, only said that my days of living here were over; but I never explicitly ruled out a quick visit for old times' sake. _Uncle_ " - he looked down his nose at his relative - " _Aunt_ " - his gaze wandered toward the long-necked woman leaning pale and trembling against the wall, "will you not welcome me and my friends into your home?"

It was only now that Vernon became aware of two more wizards standing behind his nephew, a muscular blond and a tall man looming dark and dangerously.

"I will not," Vernon wanted to say. But even as he opened his mouth to utter his indignant denial, he suddenly wondered why he would want to do that. It would be much nicer to bid the gentlemen to come inside, no reason to make a fuss, was there? He had failed to notice the man's tiny hand gesture, as well as the mumbled _Imperio_.

A short time later, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape were sitting at the Dursleys' kitchen table, drinking tea. In one corner of the room, they had deposited what looked alarmingly like an unconscious - _or dead!_ Petunia thought with dismay - person.

Vernon could not for the life of him understand how they had gotten into his home. _He_ certainly wouldn't have let this rabble in! His wife was a little better informed than he was for she had been privileged to witness him doing just that.

At the moment, though, Petunia was fully occupied with watching the dark-haired man with the menacing air sat opposite her at the table who was exuding coldness even as he brought a steaming cup of Earl Grey to his thin lips. The man was pale; his dark hair and black robe completed the picture and gave his face a nearly bloodless look. _And maybe it is_ , Petunia thought, shocked.

Her sister had once upon a time enjoyed torturing Petunia with tales of the many magical creatures that actually existed, and given a then eleven-year-old girl nightmares by promising that it wasn't entirely implausible for such a dark magical creature to one day find its way into her room while she was innocently sleeping in her bed. A vampire, for example... Petunia concentrated hard on watching the man sitting opposite her so as not to miss the crucial moment when the time came to jump up and high-tail it.

"Well, as you may be able to imagine, dear uncle, dear aunt," Harry spoke up once more, "my visit here is not for the sole purpose of maintaining social bonds - which, as you never failed to assure me, can be considered non-existent in our case..." As Harry went on, his relatives seemed to shrink in their seats. They sensed that they would not get away scot-free.

"You better believe that I feel sorely tempted to show my gratitude right here and now for the love and care you have provided me with all my life." The pale wizard's face twisted in a wolfish grin, while Harry Potter still looked down on his relatives with impassive, cold eyes. "And trust me, I would, were there not others I hate even more and who deserve to feel my vengeance first."

Vernon was confused. Others? He knew that the ungrateful brat had not appreciated the strict upbringing they bestowed upon him; yet he had always thought that the boy was spoiled rotten at his blasted _wizarding_ school. According to Petunia, the boy was something of a hero for those freaks. Why would he hate them?

Petunia's thoughts seemed to go in a similar direction. "Are you talking about... you-know-who?" she asked fearfully.

Harry barked a short laugh. "Voldemort?"

Petunia flinched.

"No, I already took care of him last year. He's not going to cause me trouble ever again. I am more powerful than him. In fact, many are saying" - he leaned closer across the table, bringing his face up close to his aunt's so she could see the manic gleam in his eyes - "that I am the new Dark Lord. And you know what?" Petunia gulped. She stared at her nephew, stricken with fear, as he withdrew and casually leaned back in his chair once again. "They are right."

Vernon didn't understand any of this. "New Dark Lord? What is that supposed to mean? I thought this Wall-de-Mart or what-have-you was so powerful that all wizards were deadly afraid of him?" Vernon was visibly baffled; he never even noticed that he had just used the word "wizards".

Meanwhile, Harry seemed greatly amused by his bewilderment. He already suspected the reason for his uncle's difficulty in grasping that Harry had taken the place of the most powerful and evil wizard of the century. But he wanted to hear it from his uncle's own mouth. Thus he only lifted an eyebrow in a gesture strikingly reminiscent of Snape and tilted his head a little. "Yes, Voldemort was too powerful to be vanquished even by the strongest wizards of the Light. So?"

Vernon did not spot the mocking tone. "Well, so it is impossible that you should have defeated him and taken his place. After all, you've been a doormat all of your life who could never be a match for our Dudley -" He broke off, startled, as the blond young man next to Harry uttered a furious growl.

"Harry, a doormat? The nerve of that Muggle!!" He had half risen from his chair and was reaching for his wand. But Harry put a hand on his arm and said: "Calm, Draco." Petunia watched with amazement as the imposing young man meekly returned to his place.

"You know," her nephew now mused out loud, "they really couldn't have known any better. They know next to nothing about my yearly conflict with Voldemort, have only seen me do magic without a wand, if at all - and you know that I still lack perfect control of my wandless ability - and, last but not least, I was never allowed to stand up to them.

"The ministry already sent me a reprimand just for Dobby using a simple hovering charm in this house. What do you think would have happened if I had tackled my relatives with a _Stupefy_ or maybe, later, a well-motivated _Cruciatus_?" At the last words, he had casually drawn his own wand and was now lightly turning it around in his hands.

Draco grinned. "It's a good thing you don't need to give a fig about the ministry any more."

Petunia decided that the time had come to take to her heels and run for her life, for her nephew had obviously abandoned all restraint and was here to take revenge - and different from her husband, she was perfectly aware of how much reason for it he had. With a scream, she jumped up, her stool crashing to the floor behind her, and high-tailed it to the door.

She didn't make it five steps.

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Immobilus!"_

_"Pedes Aquae!"_

All three wizards had simultaneously raised their wands and uttered spells to stop her, with varying degrees of indifference colouring their voices. The bony woman had frozen the moment her legs turned to water and refused to carry her; the _Immobilus_ had prevented her from crashing to the floor. So there she now hovered in front of the door, hand still extended towards the handle.

"An interesting combination," Harry said while making Petunia float back over to the table with a wave of his wand. "Release your curses," he said, cancelling his _Immobilus_.

Petunia collapsed helplessly.

Harry frowned. "Draco, the water-legs curse as well!" he ordered.

The blond teenager grinned at him insolently. "Sorry, must have slipped my mind." The older wizard next to him snorted, while Harry smirked at the nonchalant answer.

Vernon Dursley sat in his spot feeling thoroughly intimidated and did not even dare to get up and lend his wife a hand as she struggled back to her feet.

"Please have a seat, dearest aunt," Harry addressed her again. "If you have an urgent appointment, you will have to give your excuses tomorrow for you are going to miss it. You had to participate in an important meeting."

A pale Petunia stared at him. "Tomorrow? But you are going to kill us!"

Her nephew shook his head in a mockery of sorrow. "I am saddened by how little you listen to me. Where did I go wrong?" he asked his two friends with contrived perplexity.

His question was met with amusement. The older one answered with a dark, silky voice: "Well, Mr. Potter, you know how I tend to call inattentive students to order. If you would leave your uncle and aunt to me for a moment...?"

Harry seemed to seriously consider the offer for a long moment before refusing, this time with true regret. "Severus, much as I'd love to, I have to decline. If you intimidate them too much, they won't be able to grasp what I need them to do." His eyes swept over the lifeless body lying on the floor in one of the kitchen's corners.

Again, Petunia wondered if the person was still alive. Not much was visible of his face, since a few red strands of hair nearly completely covered it; but he did not seem much older than her nephew. Her attention was quickly pulled back to Harry as he once more addressed her directly.

"Aunt Petunia. As I already said at the beginning, I did _not_ come here today to take revenge for all the wrongs you have done me over the years. I could even accuse you in a regular court of law and would probably win." Petunia felt her husband trembling next to her - she could not tell if it was with suppressed anger or fear.

"No, I hardly feel the desire for vengeance against you any more - at least you were always honest in your hatred of me. I never had reason for false hope. You did not pretend any affection towards me, nor did you expect any.

"At school, it was different. The _friends_ I made there regularly abandoned me, turned their backs on me on a whim or due to the influence of a rather jaundiced newspaper. When it would have mattered most, they usually weren't there for me. And from them, I _had_ expected loyalty and real affection. It was a dark hour for me when I realized that I could not trust anyone at all."

"HEY!" the blond interjected indignantly.

Harry's look at him bordered on fondness. "That was before I understood that you were not my enemy, Draco. Back then, you were still _Malfoy_ to me." The other seemed mollified and Harry continued.

"One thing they never understood at school was my withdrawn, introverted nature, which I blame entirely on you, dear aunt. Every wizard knew the story of the heroic Harry Potter and his defeat of the Dark Lord - the first defeat. The general opinion was that I had grown up as a venerated hero, pampered and spoiled; surely, as a child I'd had my every wish anticipated and been spoiled six ways from Sunday. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Said man had the grace to blush.

"Severus?"

The older man did not sheepishly lower his eyes, but returned Harry's look expressionlessly. Then his mouth twisted in the cold smirk his students had all learned to fear. "Does the golden boy of Gryffindor object?" he asked smugly.

Harry's only reply was a barking laugh. Then he turned back to his aunt. "I thought some of my so-called _friends_ " - another look at the miserable pile in the corner - "would profit from some first-hand experience with just how much I've been spoiled growing up."

The two wizards next to him looked at each other with dawning realization. Apparently, Harry had not informed them of his plans beforehand.

Harry got up and walked over to the lifeless figure in the corner. " _Enervate._ "

Petunia could not quite suppress a relieved sigh when the figure began to move and slowly, as though in pain, raised its head. So the man was not dead, thank God.

"Allow me to introduce you," Harry said. "This is Ronald Weasley, my former best friend and a pureblood wizard." At the last words, he had firmly looked at Vernon and seemed to rejoice in the disgust he found in his eyes. "I know you cannot abide wizards; still, I must ask you to let this one live with you for a few weeks."

That was a bit much for Vernon. Throwing caution to the wind, he snapped at his nephew: "Why should we do as asinine a thing as that?!"

The wizard with the lightening-bolt scar just seemed to have waited for this question. "I've always wanted to do this," he whispered to his friends. " _Crucio._ "

Vernon and Petunia Dursley screamed, she in shock and he in pain. The two other wizards had now gotten up, as well, and stood by watching with evil smirks as Harry's uncle thrashed on the floor, screaming.

But after just a few seconds, Harry lowered his wand. "Oh, I don't know if I'm really cut out to be a Dark Lord, Draco! I always wanted to pay my uncle back for all the beatings, the humiliation, the slave labour... but now I'm not really enjoying it. It's dull." A somewhat whiny tone had crept into his voice.

In front of the thoroughly shocked Petunia, Draco pulled the previously oh-so very terrible-looking Harry Potter into an embrace and whispered: "My silly Gryffindor. No matter if the Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin way back when - it is not just Dumbledore that made you a Gryffindor. You really do have too big a heart."

The sweetly affectionate scene was broken by a derisive snort. It came from the young wizard on the floor who had by now succeeded in sitting up and returning to consciousness little by little. "A big heart, him? Don't make me laugh!"

Four sets of eyes abruptly turned towards the young wizard; none of them looked friendly. He gulped. This was not good at all...


	2. The Burrow, the Previous Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You made my day! ^^

* * *

 

_If I go crazy then will you still call me superman?  
If I'm alive and well, _ _will you be there a-holding my hand?_

_\- 3 Doors Down, 'Kryptonite'_

* * *

"Oh, what has become of the boy! And it's all because of Severus!" Molly Weasley sighed. Her husband remained silent.

"I remember vividly how I saw him the first time at the station. How can he be so spiteful, so insolent and bitter now? Back then, he seemed so polite, quiet and amiable..."

"- not to mention intimidated, dressed in rags, thoroughly uninformed and naïve," Percy interrupted her, coming through the door.

"But, Percy!" Molly exclaimed appalled.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Percy had reconciled with his parents last year after finally admitting that he had done Harry a terrible injustice. He had apologized to Harry and been astounded when Harry not only accepted the apology but also whispered, as though to himself: "Maybe not all Weasleys are lying enviers or brainless groupies, after all."

That had opened his eyes for the first time, for he had seen behind Harry's façade for a brief moment. The bitter loneliness he saw there came as a great shock for Percy.

His parents obviously had never had such an insight. Six days ago, a plenary meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had been called due to Harry's escape from the hospital, where Dumbledore had once again shown Harry's graduation speech to everyone by way of his Pensieve.

Ever since, there had been no other topic of conversation for Molly. Percy was quite honestly a bit disgusted with his mother's hypocrisy. Maybe the fact that while he had reconciled with Harry, he still had a number of issues with his family, played into it. But then again he'd always had those. When had they ever accepted his ambition and his tidiness, maybe even praised him for it? - He could not come up with a single instance, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Harry had a truly horrid childhood with his relatives. At school, he finally finds friends, and they have nothing better to do than to first make him hope for acceptance and friendship, then drop him like a hot potato. I've watched it all! Hermione and Ron might not have let the Daily Prophet influence them, but even they eventually pushed him away him due to jealousy, envy or plain mistrust. Honestly, I don't think he went mad; he had every reason to be angry!"

"Every reason? But Percy, what has gotten into you! No-one has 'every reason' to talk like that about his teachers and classmates in front of the whole school! Poor Professor Dumbledore -"

"- repeatedly cursed Harry with the _Cruciatus_ over the last couple of years in order to 'toughen him', if Harry is to be believed. Do you call that normal?"

"And Minerva -"

"- never even noticed! She was his head of house, bloody hell, she should have looked after him! But Harry has always been betrayed and disappointed by those who should have helped him."

"Trelawney was not responsible for him, though. Why should he -"

"That old witch does enjoys predicting various people's death, but as far as I'm aware, it's always different people, so students can usually calm themselves with the thought that it's hardly likely their entire class will die all at once. It's only once Harry entered her classroom that she began always unsettling the same person with her gloom-mongering. Seriously, Mum, what else would you consider a cause for righteous anger? At least he only used words to curse her!"

Molly gaped at her son. "Percy... you've gone mad."

"EXCUSE ME?! Just because I empathize with the wizarding world's hero no longer wanting to be pushed around and abused, now I am crazy, too? Are you going to send me to St. Mungo's, as well? When it was you who have been badgering me for two years that I should try to understand Harry...! Oh, I am so sick of you ridiculous, sanctimonious toadies! I have left this family once, and I am quite capable of doing it again! Mum, Da, I'm leaving. Possibly for good, who knows."

Before his parents could say a single word in reply, he had apparated. For a moment, they heard him rummaging in his room, packing up his belongings. Then another 'crack', followed by silence.

The two Weasley parents looked at each other. "Mad..." Molly whispered. "Everyone's gone mad..."

Arthur wordlessly hugged his wife. Though in the privacy of his mind, he rather thought that Percy wasn't entirely wrong. He would have liked to talk to Harry, to find out more. Unfortunately, he had escaped from the hospital and no-one knew his current whereabouts. Also, Arthur could not be entirely certain that Harry wouldn't attack him were he to approach him now. Arthur sighed. What had their world become?

"Where do you think Percy will go now?" Molly sniffled.

Arthur's brows creased in thought. His eyes wandered over to the old kitchen clock with its hands for each family member. While the metal of the other eight hands gleamed, Percy's hand had turned red with rust. Even as Arthur was looking at it, little flakes of rust crumbled from it and dropped to the floor. This time, the separation was final, he noticed, stricken. Percy no longer considered himself a member of the family.

Arthur was just about to avert his gaze when Ron's hand started moving. "Molly, Ron's on his way home."

But the hand that had been moving towards "home" suddenly turned back around and pointed straight to "mortal danger".

"Oh Merlin, Ron!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed and jumped to his feet. Molly startled and in turn saw the clock's menacing setting.

"Where could he be at?? And who would want to attack him, I thought You-Know-Who was dead?" Arthur just looked at her. Finally the sickle dropped. "Harry?!"

Arthur was pale, but his voice barely trembled as he said: "The more salient question is, where..."

A rumbling sound came from above their heads, followed by raised voices.

"Thank Merlin, he made it home!" Molly cried and flew up the stairs towards Ron's room. Arthur, however, looked at the clock once more. The hand hadn't moved. "Molly, wait!"

Arthur ran after his wife and found her kneeling with tears running down her face in front of the locked door to Ron's room just seconds later. " _Alohomora_ ," he yelled, but the door refused to open.

"...and that, my esteemed friend, is the reason I came here today," just now a muffled, cold voice could be heard from beyond the door. Then: " _Avada Kedavra!_ " A green light flashed beyond the opening underneath the door. Several 'cracks' sounded, then nothing.

Arthur once again tried the door handle and found the door could be opened. Very much afraid of what he would see, he stepped inside.

The room was empty.

* * *


	3. Number Four, Privet Drive

_ Revenge is a dish best served cold. _

_ \- Proverb, exact origins unknown _

* * *

Snape stepped forward. "Tell me, Weasley: What can you actually accuse Harry of?"

Ron looked at him angrily. "What I accuse this snake in the grass of? I will tell you, Snape! He is a traitor! This blow-headed poser has feigned friendship for years, only to tell us in the end that he actually hates us. He said unforgivable things about his teachers - and I do not believe that it was madness talking, he was entirely serious about what he said! That bloke is dangerous! And it's your fault, Snape!"

"No, it is _your_ fault, Ron. Along with everyone else who betrayed, used and patronized me all my life." Harry's voice was quietly menacing. Ron stared at him, complete incomprehension blatantly apparent on his face. 

Harry looked somewhat disappointed. "You know, for a while, I really thought I had made friends for the first time in my life. I am sorry that I was wrong."

Harry turned back towards his aunt and his voice and eyes once more lost all expression. Ron was lost and he had given up on him. "Well, you now know one of the reasons why I want you to take on Mr. Weasley for a spell." Petunia looked at Vernon, trembling, obviously asking herself what would happen next. 

"The second reason, dearest aunt, concerns you directly." The thin woman retreated back to the wall and defensively raised her hands. Harry followed her and pushed the hands down gently, yet firmly. 

"I know my summer holidays were always the only true holidays you got, as well. You are a full-time housewife. Year-round. When I was little, you could push a large part of your tasks towards me and had a lot of free time; later, not so much. Only because of my presence during the summers, toiling like a slave, you had some time to yourself at least once a year. 

"To be honest, I pity you. Your existence must be incredibly boring. You should go out sometimes, play Bridge or whatever! Maybe then you won't need to walk about all day with such a sour expression!

"- Long story short, I think it will do you some good to have a drudge again. And you won't be the target any more when Vernon or Dudley have some petty annoyance they need to let out. Rest assured that no-one will hold you accountable for whatever you choose to do to his wizard; you will have as free a hand there as you had with me. Nobody knows he is here, and I will make sure that's how it will remain."

Petunia looked at Harry dumbfounded. She liked what he said: a gratuitous slave and whipping boy? She knitted her thin brows. There had to be a catch. What reason could he have to give  _her_ a present?

Harry smirked. He knew exactly what was going through his aunt's head. "I see you are not opposed to the idea?"

"Petunia!" That was uncle Vernon. 

"Shut up!" she hissed at him. Harry blinked in surprise. That tone was usually reserved for him. Apparently, he had hit the bull's eye: his relatives' marriage truly seemed to have suffered since they no longer could vent their every sorrow and wrath on him.

"Well, aunt, I am perfectly aware that you do not believe I would do this out of the goodness of my heart. But as I said, my intended targets are not you" - Vernon huffed disbelievingly - "but those who called themselves my  _friends_ at school. The sole purpose of my offer is to educate this young wizard about how I really grew up, since he still seems to suffer from some tragic misconceptions on that point. 

"I rather suspect he will not like his stay with you; but I have made sure that he can only leave the house in your company. Probably best not to let him leave the house at all - just like me, when I was younger. It hasn't been decided yet what happens to him later on. I will probably come for him in a month or two, unless you absolutely want to keep him." He looked at his aunt with a steady, business-like gaze. 

"Potter, what is this nonsense?" Ron finally spoke up. 

Harry looked down on him with a cold grin. "Haven't you always envied me, Ron? Wanting everything I had? You may rejoice: now you get to experience an important part of my life first-hand! You are a pureblood wizard, so my relatives will love you as much as they loved me. 

"Of course, you have the handicap of already being grown up, so you will not get to feel the true depth of the inferiority complex - in fact, the entire emotional imprinting - that I have suffered through the lack of love and constant bullying by my cousin and his parents. Thus the experience will not be wholly authentic. Still, I am curious as to how the life of Harry Potter will agree with you..."

Ron stared at him. His thoughts were displayed clearly on his face:  _Merlin, Mum was right! Harry Potter really has gone mad!_

At that moment, a phone rang. Petunia and Vernon looked at each other disoriented; theirs had a different ringtone. But already the unasked question was being answered: Harry reached into the pocket of his black baggy pants and pulled out a fancy new mobile. "Yes?"

Snape frowned. He had not quite gotten used yet to Harry's frequent use of Muggle appliances. Though he did understand it. Harry had explained to him that not only did he want to make up for all the amenities he had missed out on, growing up with the Dursleys; but also, Muggles really were ahead of wizards in many things. 

A mobile really was a hundred times more practical than an owl or the floo network if one simply wanted to exchange a few words. Also, the multitude of Muggle news agencies was superior to the wizarding world's offers. Any Muggle had a chance to form their own opinion by skimming several newspapers and did not have to rely on the forever jaundiced Daily Prophet - or the Quibbler, which was only sporadically finding a relevant grain of truth. 

"Ah, it's you, Zoltan. Were you successful? ...That's good. ...Yes, we're about to wrap things up here and will return soon." Harry disconnected the call and turned to face Draco and Snape. "They got Granger."

Ron gasped in horror. Then rage overtook him and he jumped up to attack Harry. "HARRY POTTER! What are you planning to do to Hermione? You hideous snake...!"

„ _Silencio!“_

„ _Petrificus Totalus!“_

„ _Incarcerus!“_

Ron was thrown up against the wall, his lips still moving soundlessly, where he then hung immobile while ropes grew from the wall and wrapped themselves around his arms and legs. 

"We should get out of the habit of doing everything thrice. It's uneconomical," Harry grinned.

"True," Draco answered, "but the effect is rather nice." He considered the motionless, bound, silenced Weasley with appreciation. 

Harry stepped up to Ron. "So, a snake in the grass, am I?" He put his arms around Severus's neck, standing beside him. "A  _sssnake_ ?"

In front of a horror-stricken Ron's and the two Muggles' eyes, Harry vanished; in his place, a massive black cobra was winding around the potions master's shoulders. It opened its maw widely, displaying a splendid set of wicked fangs. Its tongue extended from the mouth, fluttering nervously. Slowly, the snake wound down along Severus's arm and slid over to Ron's shoulders. 

The redhead's heart nearly stopped. Had he been able, he would have run screaming. But the curses were still in effect and so he moved not an inch when he heard the cobra hissing next to his cheek and thought he could feel its tongue. His eyes slowly rolled back until only the whites were showing. The cobra twisted around Ron's neck, lightly choking him, before gliding down to the floor and - turning back into Harry Potter. 

Harry leant down to Ron who was panting for breath. "Now listen up. Your parents 'know' that I have murdered you - and for a moment there, I was sorely tempted to do just that -, so you are officially dead and no-one will come looking for you. Your wand has been broken. I do not think you are strong enough to use wandless magic; but just in case, Draco got this bracelet for you in Nocturn Alley. It blocks your magic and effectively renders you a squib, until a wizard takes it off you."

Following word with action, he put the bracelet on Ron and stepped back. "There is a ward around the house that prevents you from leaving the property unchaperoned. It also keeps wizards from being noticed on the estate. If anyone walks by while you are mowing the lawn, they will simply not pay you any mind. So you better believe me that no-one will come to 'rescue' you - just as I have never been spared the Dursleys. 

"Admittedly, you had a fun adventure coming to rescue me before our second year. But you realize where I went the next summer? Right back to the place you 'rescued' me from! And don't you believe for one minute that things had actually gotten better around here.

"Uncle, aunt" - he abruptly turned on his heels - "I hereby transfer into your care Ronald Weasley, a pureblood wizard and fervent warrior for for justice." Sarcasm was dripping from his every word. "I assume he is too tall for the wardrobe, but there ought to be enough room in the cellar. I am sure he will get along splendidly with the spiders. He will probably be a little heartsick since his girlfriend might never visit him again; so be nice to the poor dear." An evil smirk played around the corners of his mouth during those last words. 

Harry, Severus and Draco gave curt nods, released their curses and turned towards the door. The Dursleys' gazes followed them out the door. Behind them, Ron slipped down the wall unnoticed and collapsed on the floor. 

_ Hermione...! _


	4. Riddle Manor, Headquarters of the Black Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution - this chapter is highly dramatic. Well, as much as a one-man show without a stage can be called a drama, at any rate. :P

* * *

_Out, out, brief candle!_  
_Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player_  
_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage_  
_And then is heard no more._  
_It is a tale told by an idiot_  
_Full of sound and fury_  
_Signifying nothing._

_\- 'Macbeth', Shakespeare_

* * *

"Haha, your uncle nearly passed out when you transformed!" Draco chuckled. Harry grinned. It was an open, honestly amused grin, not the cold mask he had worn before.

The three quickly made their way from the entrance hall, the only place open to incoming apparitions in the house, up to the conference room.

"Say, Harry, what are your plans for the mudblood?"

"Don't call her that!"

"Ohooo - don't tell me you still fancy her," Draco teased, badly pretending only superficial interest.

"Oh Draco," Harry sighed, "you may believe what I told you about girls two days ago."

"What might that have been?" Severus inquired curiously. He saw Harry as a sort of adopted son and was greatly invested in his - so far seemingly non-existent - love life.

Harry stopped and let his eyes roam slowly up and down his friend and teacher's body. "That I'd rather get laid by my sinister potions professor than by a _girl_ ," he replied with a salacious grin.

Draco laughed. Severus though was completely nonplussed. He hadn't seen that one coming. "Harry, please don't get me wrong, but I..." He broke off with a huff as he saw his former students rolling around on the floor in helpless laughter. "Draco Malfoy, what is so funny about this?" he asked irritably.

"Well, we are all quite aware that you do not fancy Harry - otherwise, I am sure the private tutoring these past years would have been conducted a lot differently." Draco grinned. The idea caused Harry to burst into more laughter.

"Besides, if you were going to hit on anyone, I am sure you would choose _me_ , isn't that right, _S-e-v-e-r-u-s_?" Draco breathed. Harry abruptly stopped laughing and stared at Draco uneasily. Which in turn caused another loud eruption of hilarity in Draco.

"Oh Harry, you may also believe what I told you two days ago: I like you now as much as I used to hate you. More, even. I intend to stay close to you, not only because you have my sole loyalty, but also" - here he threw a _look_ at the puzzled Severus that shouted _Don't laugh!_ \- "but also because I... I... because I love you, Harry."

Harry gave him a tender smile. As one, the two boys moved forward to hug and hold each other close, each basking in the other's closeness. "I don't want anyone but you, Harry."

"Thank you, Dragon. You don't know how much this means to me."

Severus looked from one boy to the other. "So you were just teasing me?" he asked, sounding quite peeved. The two lovers looked at him with matching insolent smirks.

"Well -" Draco started.

"It was not entirely pulled from thin air..." Harry continued.

"We love each other, but -"

"- we thought maybe you could -"

"- act as our teacher once again. Because we do have -"

"- a tiny problem."

"We both have, sad though it may sound -"

"- neither of us any clue -"

"- how two men might -"

"Enough!" Severus shouted. " _Too much information!_ Besides, you sound like the Weasley twins." He shook himself in disgust, which elicited another laugh from the two.

"But please, surely you were jesting?"

Draco looked honestly puzzled. "No, why?"

"We find you very attractive," Harry helpfully added.

Severus could not help but feel flattered, for despite their shit-eating grins, he felt that the boys were not making fun of him and rather honestly meant what they were saying. Still. "I am sorry to inform you that I have absolutely no use for men. You may not have seen me with a woman before, but I fear you are frequently going to, in the future." He did not look all that sorry. "I have been together with Kandis for eight years now, but as a spy for Voldemort and Dumbledore, my life was too dangerous to publicly advertise our relationship. So I could only meet her from time to time, at night..."

"Aah!" Harry said, "She deprived you of your sleep - that's why you were always so grumpy during your morning classes!"

Grumpy? Severus gave Harry a scolding look at the word choice but then decided to let it pass. "And since I have been in Azkaban for a week now, and unavailable to her -"

"Why didn't she come visit you?" Harry asked curiously.

Severus sighed. "She cannot afford the bad publicity. She's going on tour again next week."

"Waaaaait a minute!" Draco yelled. "You cannot possible be talking about _the_ Kandis of the _Weird Sisters_?!"

Severus gave Draco a quizzical look and enjoyed the obvious impact his girlfriend's name had made. "Yes Draco, the same."

Draco whistled appreciatively, and Harry couldn't hold back a reverent little " _Wow._ " himself. Kandis was talented, popular and good-looking. And probably at least ten years younger than Severus. What could have brought those two together, Harry could not begin to imagine.

Although, to be quite honest... he was even younger than Kandis himself, and still he would not have minded pulling Severus into his and Draco's bed... Maybe it was the silky voice? Or the lean, elegant torso he always hid under those angular, high-necked wizard's robes at school? …

"Well, at any rate, gentlemen, you see I am indeed spoken for."

"Hmm... would you have been interested, otherwise?"

"Certainly not."

The two looked at each other in mock-outrage. "Are we not good enough for you?" Draco whined.

Severus snorted. Draco had been spending too much time with Harry. "Draco, I've known you since you were a little baby. I consider you nearly a son. To me, it would feel like incest."

"Oh..."

"And Harry: I have heard you moaning during nightmares or the _Cruciatus_ a few times too often. I think I will always be ill at ease with the sound. So unless you want to do it with an active _Silencium_ , I see little chance..."

"Oh," Harry said as well. As unusual as those reasons might be, they made a kind of sense.

"You are _my_ Harry, never doubt that. You, too, have carved yourself a place in my heart and become like a son to me and I will always protect you; but please do keep me out of your bed."

Silence.

Draco was the first to shake free from the emotional moment. "Back to the topic at hand. What are you going to do to Granger, and why shouldn't I call her mudblood if that's what she is?"

Harry's lips pinched into a firm line. "I may be the new Dark Lord, but other than the ones I know personally, I do not mind Muggles. There are certainly more wizards than Muggles I dislike. So I see no reason for discrimination - not even where a know-it-all bitch like Granger is concerned."

Draco laughed - that was blunt.

"As to my plans for her, if anyone could figure them out, it is you. After all, you were the one to help me learn the spell."

"Which spell?" Severus asked. Again he lamented the many things he had missed while being locked up in Azkaban.

"The _Homorphus_ ," Harry answered calmly, well aware of the effect his answer was bound to have on Severus. He wasn't disappointed.

" _Homorphus?!?_ " Severus croaked. "Harry, how do you know this curse?"

"I found it in a yellowed book on time magic. Why it is even mentioned in there is a mystery to me... But I thought it very useful and committed it to memory for later use. These past days, I remembered it again and started practising it. Draco's invention for verifying the accuracy of a spell without casting it on a true target was an immense help. But the spell is hardly easy, which is why it took me a while to master it. After all, it's advanced dark magic."

"Like that would stop you!" Draco joked.

"True. Well, I found the book in the second-hand book shop in Hogsmeade, the only author name given was 'K.R.', no idea who that might be... I was often in that shop during our last school year, since I only had Slytherins for friends any more, but was forced to spend my nights in Gryffindor tower. The only thing saving me from boredom-induced suicide were books. I think 'Mione wasn't happy that this made me outmatch her in the NEWT for nearly all the classes." He grinned, self-satisfied.

"Alright, now I know where you found the spell. But what do you want with it? As far as I know, it allows you to assimilate a person's entire memories and knowledge. But people have been known to go mad after using it, which is why the _Homorphus_ is illegal nowadays. I think Voldemort has used it a few times too many, and just look at what has become of him! Granger's memories could not possibly be worth the risk. Especially since you said yourself just now that in the end, you surpassed her." Severus obviously could not make heads nor tails of Harry's plans.

Harry was happy to explain them to him. "Severus, I found out that the _Homorphus_ can be used in both directions."

While Severus was still digesting this information, Harry threw open the door to the conference room which they had reached a moment ago. No time remained for further questions as the object of their discussion was sitting inside, held at wand-point by several wizards surrounding her.

Harry's Snakes were quite a bit different from the previous Death Eaters. They did also wear black robes, but without the hoods and masks. Such things reminded Harry too much or Voldemort, Templars or the Ku-Klux-Clan. He still wasn't entirely sure if his 'order' would continue to exist beyond the completion of his revenge, and which goals it should pursue then, but he already knew he never wanted to wage a war against innocents as his predecessors had done. So the servants of this Dark Lord needed to look different, as well.

And they did.

Following the example of their leader with his dyed, tousled hair, the Muggle clothing and those eyes that could change between an angry stare and an amused grin from one moment to the next, they also gave a unique and more than a little unorthodox impression.

Along with the black robes, they wore sunglasses and Muggle clothes. Some had also tied green or silver bandanas with a black snake, crow, wolf or phoenix motif around their heads. It was obvious that they belonged together, and yet the individuality of every single member was preserved. Just like Harry had wanted it.

"Zoltan, Blaise, Dean, many thanks!" Harry called out. The black-robed figures took off their sunglasses and merrily grinned at him. Besides the recipients of his thanks, Pansy, Millicent, Percy, Luna, Remus, Oliver, Tonks and a few more people were also present. "Did you have any problems?"

"No, she was home alone," Dean answered. "Imagine her reaction when we entered the room."

"Let me guess," Harry said drily, "she was studying and had completely blocked out the world around her. She only let go of her book when the stunner made it impossible for her to hold onto it. Am I right?"

The Slytherins in the group seemed impressed, while the Gryffindors just shared tired grins. "It is nice when people are so very predictable."

Everyone's eyes now focused on the young woman kneeling on the floor and keeping her head bowed. Her face was hidden behind her long mane of brown hair.

"Hello, 'Mione," Harry greeted her calmly. His voice was neither angry nor teasing, but entirely lacking inflection. Still the young woman kept her head down.

Harry was mystified. He had expected her to attack him full-out the moment he stepped into the room, or at least to rage at him, ready to go down fighting, if it came to that. Just as long as she was right.

"Did you do something to her?" Harry asked irritatedly.

Dean knew at once what Harry meant. He was also greatly vexed by Hermione's behaviour. "No, Harry. We just picked her up and left a black feather on her bed, as you told us to do. Then we came her with her and cancelled the spell.

"She did react as you would expect, at first. She wanted to curse us all, but she quickly realized that she was pretty helpless without a wand. Next, she tried letting her fists do the talking, like a Muggle; but apparently she had forgotten that all her studying never left her much room for sports, and so she could not even take on a single one of us by herself. Finally, she tried talking to us, asking us who we were all working for and what we wanted from her. We told her. Then she suddenly fell silent. And she's been like this ever since."

"How long ago was that?"

"She had just entered this lethargy when I called you, so maybe about half an hour..."

"Alright."

"Harry, I hope we didn't do anything wrong?" Blaise asked nervously.

"Nonsense. And why are you nervous? I hope you're not expecting this Dark Lord here" - he pointed at his own nose like an anime character and showed a silly grin - "to punish you for any failures?"

Blaise laughed at Harry's antics - as did the rest of the gathered Snakes. Harry was pleased. They were a rather peculiar little congregation.

"Well then, I assume it's time I found out what's the matter with our guest, hm?" Harry bent down and put a hand underneath Hermione's chin, gently pushing it up. Hermione put up no resistance; she slowly raised her gaze. When their eyes met, Harry took a surprised step backwards.

Hermione's eyes were filled with the deepest pain. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, the mouth was pressed into a trembling, thin line. This, he had not expected. What had happened to her Gryffindor courage? He looked around at the others a bit uncertainly.

The Snakes looked back clueless, but overall pretty unconcerned. They did not care one way or another if Hermione Granger threw a huge fit, cried with fear, or did nothing whatsoever. She was here because she had earned Harry's wrath, and if she had now realized this and it was frightening her, all the better.

Only Remus Lupin and Severus understood what was currently going on in Harry's head. Remus had been close to Harry a lot longer than the Slytherins, whom Harry had only befriended during the last couple of years, or Luna, with whom profound conversations were always a bit tricky.

Remus had only joined Harry two days ago. Harry had been suspicious, since Remus had been involved in the accusation against Severus, but Remus reassured him that he regretted that now and that he had been in no way involved in Harry's committal to St. Mungo's. Oliver corroborated that. When Harry spied the shadow of a black phoenix on Remus's arm, he believed the werewolf and gladly accepted him into the Black Snakes.

Severus had also gotten quite close to Harry in their many classes in Occlumency and the Dark Arts, and had a fairly good idea of what was bothering Harry.

The others for the most part only knew Harry superficially and had joined him because they condemned the wizarding society's treatment of Harry. It was only during the last few days that they had gotten their first real glimpses into the saviour of the wizarding world's disquieting psyche. Those had convinced them that they had made the right choice, and one after the other, the black phoenix had started forming on their arms, as well.

Harry's scream from the hospital really seemed to have set free a great, ancient power, for not even Voldemort's sign had appeared on its own; he'd had to brand his followers with it.

It had not been a sign of trust, but of servitude; and it had been impossible to erase until his death. But Harry's sign, he was sure, would vanish if a follower no longer felt committed to him, whether they disavowed their loyalty to him openly or in secret. Really, an interesting bit of wild magic.

Remus, Severus and Draco watched with concerned eyes as Harry stood in front of his once friend and classmate, visibly unsure what to make of her. His dilemma was a simple one: He had wanted revenge for how she'd always made his life difficult - sending him to Dumbledore with his problems who only wanted to use him; envying him his clear superiority in Defence against the Dark Arts, his talent for flying and a few other things; keeping him from the Slytherins and vilifying them; only to abandon him herself, in the end, because her boyfriend was once again jealous of Harry.

Always, she had demanded his understanding for her and Ron, without ever trying to understand him. He had fantasized about how she would angrily accuse him of all sorts of things, as always, and demanded his understanding for her point of view; then he could have given her a real piece of his mind for the first time in his life.

But Hermione wasn't spitting nails and cursing. She didn't even look angry. In fact, she looked broken, lost; for the first time, it appeared that she was getting a taste of what Harry had been forced to endure his entire life: the unfairness of life and of people, always taking away that which was most precious to you.

And just like that, Harry knew what had brought Hermione to this state.

Ron.

Zoltan, Blaise and Dean had only left once he, Draco and Severus were already on their way to the Dursleys with Ron. Enough time for someone to inform Hermione of Ron's death. Now he understood that he and Dean had in fact guessed wrong: Hermione had not been lost in her own world due to her books when they came to take her; but because of Ron. She probably hadn't even noticed the books.

"You killed Ron." Her voice did not tremble. It was just as blank as Harry's had been a moment ago.

"So it would seem." Harry could hear Percy gasping for breath in utter horror behind him. "Draco," he said. He did not turn around, but kept looking at Hermione while behind him, Draco was taking Percy from the room in order to let him know the actual state of affairs. Percy had only come to join the Snakes when Harry had already been at the Dursleys' with the others. His presence here had not disquieted Harry, though, as he could clearly see the black phoenix on Percy's arm when he entered the room.

"How could you, Harry Potter?" Hermione asked. She was whispering now; on the last word, her voice broke. New tears made their way down her cheeks.

"I don't know why you are surprised, 'Mione," Harry now said with deliberate cruelty. "You and Ron betrayed me. You were my first friends. Not my first wizarding friends, but my first ever friends, period. You made me believe that I, too, had a right to friendship, maybe even love, like anybody else. I trusted you. And you threw me away out of pure selfishness, out of envy.

"My world had become a little greyer still than before Hogwarts, for I now knew exactly what was missing from my life; before, I had only had vague ideas. It hurt, but I managed to accept it and move on - even though the temptation was strong. Do you know what kept me alive? Again and again? It was my damn sense of duty. After all, I was the only one able to off Voldemort, right? I am still unsure to this day if that was even true...

"Eventually, I even found friends, once more. In Slytherin. And you know what, 'Mione? Their friendship is hard to gain, but they are loyal. Something obviously lacking in Gryffindors. They stood by me, even when Molly Weasley started her crusade against Severus and me. I am no more insane than I was seven years ago when you first offered me your friendship. And without Severus's extra classes, I would never have been able to defeat Voldemort, no matter how many _Cruciatus_ Dumbledore threw at me for inurement."

An uneasy murmur travelled around the circle of Snakes. Still, only very few knew all the facts. Hermione, however, just kept staring at him out of dull eyes.

"Hermione, in the seven years we have known each other, you have always demanded my understanding. I had to be understanding of Ron, of you, was always supposed to adapt to your way of thinking. But not a _single_ time have you really tried to understand _me_. You condemned me and cancelled our friendship without ever having really _seen_ me. And you the smartest witch of our class for so many years! But I guess you were right with what you told me in first year: Books. That is all you know.

"Of people, though, you understand very little. Otherwise, you would have known that I could never kill a man. And you would know that I only said in my graduation speech that I didn't care about the lives of many thousand people out of spite. I care about every single life, and I never intended to end a single one.

"Before Voldemort's death, I had nightmares for fear he might kill me or someone else, with me unable to prevent it. I wished for his death; but he did not do me the curtsey of simply dying. Actually, I could have lived with the nightmares if that had prevented me from becoming a murderer. But the wizarding world did not leave me any choice. Ever since, I have nightmares _because_ I killed him!"

"And still you killed Ron."

Harry huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Why do I even bother? It's always the same with you - when I show you who I really am, you don't fucking listen. Hermione Granger, I did _not_ kill Ron, nor did any of my Snakes. He's alive, Hermione."

Hermione blinked. Her body seemed tense with distrust, but in the depth of her eyes, a spark of hope had been lit. "Why should I believe you?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "Mrs. Weasley heard you say the Unforgivable."

"I did say it, yes," Harry easily admitted. "I am sure Ron's _pillow_ has suffered terribly."

The Snakes laughed in relief. Apart from Draco and Severus, no-one had known where Harry had gone off to with Ron after kidnapping him, and for a moment there they had believed Hermione when she claimed that Harry had killed him. None of them would have blamed Harry if he had, but it would have been utterly unexpected. As far as they were aware, he wanted his revenge, yes, but he wasn't out for blood. They were glad to hear that hadn't changed.

"Ronald is currently enjoying the dubious hospitality of my Muggle relatives. For all those who actually haven't heard the stories yet," he now addressed the room at large, "I can assure you that is a fitting punishment for everything he has ever done to me."

Some nodded, but many looked taken aback.

"Harry," Oliver Wood asked, "are your relatives really _that_ bad?"

Harry shrugged and answered casually: "Worse."

Hermione meanwhile was rolling her cramped shoulders; the tension was leaving her body and she murmured: "And here I was worrying... when he's only with the Dursleys."

Harry whirled back around. " _Only_? See, Hermione, that's just it: You know _nothing_ about me and my life! How could you ever have the presumption to tell _me_ that I had to understand _you_?"

Hermione stopped her shoulder-rolling and looked at Harry with honest surprise. What was the matter with him?

"I had nearly changed my mind for a while there, but now I am once again sure that I should do this, even at the risk of your insanity."

Hermione gave him a shocked look, as did a few of the others. "What do you mean? What are you going to do?" she asked nervously.

Harry pulled out his wand. "You often said last term that I seem alien to you, that you _no longer_ understand me. You agreed with Mrs. Weasley when she pronounced me crazy. I will show you just how mad I actually am. I will _make_ you understand me. In a few minutes, Hermione, you will know exactly what is going on in my head. You are strong, maybe you will even pull through."

Hermione's eyes were wide in fear and confusion. What was he talking about? When Harry pointed his wand to her left temple laid his left hand against the side of her head, she did not dare to move.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" Severus asked. This comment earned him many startled looks, for the usually unflappable potions master sounded positively concerned. Harry spared him a glance, but did not answer. Severus let out a sigh and resignedly crossed his arms in front of his chest. If this was what Harry wanted, he would not stop him.

Harry spoke in a quiet, but clear voice: " _Homorphus._ "

Hermione screamed.

It was a piercing cry of pain that seemed to go on for minutes, rising in pitch and intensity towards the end. Then Harry lowered his wand and Hermione's scream broke off abruptly. She folded in on herself and started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Harry, what is this?" Remus asked deeply shocked.

Harry himself was exhausted from the spell sluggishly padded over to Draco who had returned with Percy in the meantime. The blond drew him into a loving embrace at once and did not let go until Harry had gotten himself under control again.

Severus answered the question in Harry's place.

"Harry has transferred his entire memories to her, everything that has ever happened to him, everything he saw and felt. A particularly strong-willed wizard will be capable of assimilating another person's memories without suffering major harm; he will merely be exhausted and in need of a good night's sleep.

"In this case, however, the recipient is a young witch inexperienced in the mind arts, and what is more, the transferred memories are highly unusual and probably extremely intense. It would appear that Mrs. Granger is struggling with some of the more painful memories. She is at present reliving in fast-motion everything that Harry remembers of the first years of his life. Then it's a question of her mind being strong enough to contain the foreign memories and emotions in one corner, letting them out only as needed.

"If she succeeds in this, she will be able to make full use of her newly won knowledge and all she needs is a lot of sleep to recover from the day's exertion. However, if she fails, the consequences can reach from split personality to a total loss of her own personality, in other words, she will more or less go crazy."

The gathered Snakes stared at Severus, then at Harry and Hermione in shock. Hermione's sobs were clearly audible in the absolute silence; everyone was dumbfounded at hearing the possible consequences of Harry's spell.

Suddenly, Hermione jumped up and shouted in a panicked voice: "But I didn't do it!!!" She frantically looked around for something, not seeming to really take in her surroundings at all, until her gaze alit on the old wardrobe standing in a corner of the room. With wild, haunted eyes, she ran over to the wardrobe, crawled into it and pulled the door shut behind her.

Blaise, Millicent, Pansy and the others exchanged puzzled glances. Harry, though, slowly approached the wardrobe and quietly, but clearly said: "You can't hide in the closet. Uncle Vernon has the key."

Those among the Snakes that heard him were even more puzzled than before. Harry opened the wardrobe and they saw that Hermione was huddled in one corner, anxiously staring at the door.

As abruptly as the scene had begun, it ended. Hermione's eyes were veiled once more and she resumed her inconsolable sobbing as Harry's memories continued whirling about in her head. Hermione jerked to her feet a second time, but this time her gaze was not frantic; rather, she seemed composed and determined. She went over to the window and opened it. Harry stood closely beside her, ready in case he had correctly guessed at the memory she was currently undergoing. And indeed, a moment later she lifted one leg as if to climb onto the window sill."

Gently, he pushed her back down and closed the window. "This is only the second floor, just like in Privet Drive. You will only succeed in breaking your leg, but still be forced to continue living."

Draco hissed angrily when he realized what Harry was implying.

"And Uncle Vernon's rage afterwards isn't fun either, so you better just don't." Barely had he finished speaking when the expression on Hermione's face changed. The determination gave way to fear, followed by pain, and finally dull resignation. Again, Hermione's sobbing was the only sound in the room while this particularly striking memory faded and a number of less poignant memories flashed by before her inner eye.

A third time the sobbing stopped. All of them waited, spellbound, for the next horrible memory to hit them. As such, the deliriously happy smile blooming on Hermione's lips took them all by surprise. Many turned back to Harry right away, for they had understood by now that this scene had turned into Harry's very own, odd way of coming to terms with his past, and that his comments would shed light on which situations had caused the various emotions reflected upon Hermione's face.

Once again, Harry was quick to identify the memory. This time, it hadn't been much of a challenge, since the number of times Harry had felt truly happy in his life could probably be counted on one hand. Impassively, he explained to the radiant girl:

"You won't get to live with Sirius. Thanks to Snape and Fudge, he'll have to stay on the run. When his name's finally officially cleared, Dumbledore will still forbid you to move in with him. And later, he will betray you."

Slowly, the smile faded from Hermione's face and she began sobbing again without restraint. Draco and Severus exchanged a meaningful glance. They hadn't been aware of the extent of Harry's love for his godfather; before said godfather joined Molly Weasley two weeks ago, that is. That betrayal must have hurt Harry deeply. But they had no time to keep pondering this.

"CEDRIC!!!" Hermione screamed desperately. Then she started mumbling: "I did that. No one but me. It was my fault. All my fault. Mine..." This time, no-one needed an explanation.

Before Harry could say anything, Draco had stepped up behind him and drawn him into a tight hug. "It is _not_ your fault, Harry. It was Voldemort that killed him, not you. No matter what Dumbledore might have been preaching, you _cannot_ personally save everyone."

Harry's former classmates were aghast. Hermione was doing now what Harry had never permitted himself: she openly showed just how much he had suffered. In Hogwarts, it had been widely assumed that Harry just had a really thick skin, enabling him to deal with the many blows fate had dealt him all his life. Thus it had been easy for people to worship him or condemn him, depending on the Daily Prophet's latest stance, without any consideration of his psyche; after all, everyone knew he would not let it faze him.

Now they saw that Harry had suffered just as much as anyone else would have done in his place. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

And on it went. With every memory Hermione lived through, the spectators distress grew. Even those Harry had gotten close to during the last two years found that they had barely even glimpsed the surface of his inner life until now. They had simply been shown a different mask - one a little closer to the truth than the mask he displayed to the rest of the world, but a mask nonetheless.

Again, Hermione headed towards the window. Harry slipped from Draco's embrace and followed her to hold the window closed. "We've already covered this. Although the ground is a lot further away this time and Madam Pomfrey will spend the entire weekend patching you up. Dumbledore will make sure nobody hears a word of this, so your cry for help will once again go unanswered."

Remus growled angrily.

"Monday, you will be so out of it that the Slytherins will cut you down like never before." Blaise and Millicent guiltily looked at each other. "In divination, you will find yourself wishing that Trelawney would quit the empty promises. And you'll get to spend the evening listening to Ron and Hermione fighting about inconsequential trifles while completely forgetting you're even there."

Percy's eyes were shooting arrows at the pile of misery on the floor. She had had a part in Harry's suffering. But then he considered his own role in Harry's life and felt ashamed for presuming to judge others.

Percy's ruminations were interrupted by Hermione hitting the ground with a piercing yell. Then she started twitching helplessly, her body contorting in obvious agony. Again, Harry stepped forward. "Get a grip. This is just an exercise. If you don't pretend to feel nothing, the exact same thing will happen to you tomorrow. It may be completely futile, but we all must bow to Dumbledore's wisdom, you'll have to suck it up. A few brain cells will survive, I'm sure."

A collective outcry followed this statement. Everyone present had heard Harry's graduation speech, either directly or through others, but no one had truly understood what he had meant by this accusation to McGonagall. While some had taken it for a metaphor, others had been convinced it was about yet another instance where Snape had been unable to keep his temper during Harry's detention and may have gone a step too far. But no one had guessed at the truth, namely that the Headmaster himself had repeatedly cursed Harry with the _Cruciatus_. Hearing it once from Harry, earlier today, had not been enough for the horrible truth to really sink in; but now it did.

And the show went on. Many memories later, a different emotion from pain showed on Hermione's face for the second time. She sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, and smiled an absent-minded, but clearly self-ironic smile. "Hakuna Matata," she said and her smile turned a few shades uglier.

Dean Thomas laughed drily. He was the only one familiar enough with Muggle telly to correctly place the quote. " _When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world_ ," Harry added with a sheepish grin.

Hermione stood up, extending her arms as though they were wings - and toppled over. Harry just so managed to catch her before she hit the hard floor. "Gotta work a little more on that animagus form, huh?" he joked, now in a much better mood.

The memories in Hermione's head took up spinning yet again and she sobbed with the exertion and from the impressions she got of Harry's supremely fucked-up life. Finally, the sobbing ceased and she slowly sank to the floor, supported by Harry and Dean on the way down.

For a moment, her eyes cleared and focused on Harry. "Why are you not dead?"

He returned her gaze just as seriously. "They wouldn't let me die."

She gave a sharp nod. Then she lost consciousness.

For several seconds, no one spoke. Then people slowly came to realize that the sobbing had not ceased entirely. But it no longer came from Hermione. They looked around with some irritation. Remus's eyes were red, but he mostly had himself under control. The others were also pale, and many faces showed clear signs of shock, empathy, anger and disappointment; disappointment in the people they had thought they knew and who had proven themselves veritable monsters towards Harry. But none of those present was sobbing.

None of those visibly present.

Slowly, one person after the other turned towards the door. There, from the corner just inside the door, was the source of the sobbing. They cautiously approached the corner with wands drawn. Harry stepped forward with his hand extended in front of him until he felt soft cloth under his fingers. With a jerk, he tugged it off - and took several steps back in shock. He did not know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't Sirius Black, sitting on the floor with his head lowered, hands clutching at his propped-up knees and bawling like a little child.

However, before he could properly react to the sight, Dean, Oliver and Tonks distracted him.

"Remus, what big eyes you have!"

"And what a big nose!"

"And what big teeth!"

Little Red Riding Hood, come out and play. The day just kept getting better.

"LUPIN!" Severus was already yelling, "PLEASE tell me you have not forgotten to take your potion today!" But Lupin did not tell him anything, his mouth had already completely transformed into a snout; nothing but an unwilling whimper could be heard.

Harry rolled his eyes while the others retreated. Quickly, he uttered a string of commands. "Pansy, Millicent, please take care of Hermione. Take her to bed and make sure she doesn't kill herself upon waking. Everyone else, please disarm Black and see to it that he can't do any damage. I'm taking Remus outside. Who wants to come?" He looked around questioningly.

While most looked at him dumbfounded, Draco immediately replied: "I will, if you please."

"Oh, this will be fun!" Harry crowed, much to everyone else's puzzlement.

"I am not sure how much I can contribute, but I'm coming, as well," Severus spoke up next, "I need some fresh air." He threw a disparaging glance at Sirius Black. Harry rolled his eyes anew, but did not say anything further, for Remus had finished his transformation.

The wolf was already hungrily eyeing the wizards in the room, whose nervous gazes were fixed on him without exception. He was preparing to tackle Blaise and Zoltan - when another wolf barred his way. It was big, black, and growling. A moment later, an elegant jaguar came to join the black wolf and also snarled threateningly. Then a cry sounded above the heads of humans and animals alike and with a few strokes of powerful wings, a great eagle was pouncing on the wolf. It ruffled its fur.

The werewolf hesitated. The black wolf's growling increased in volume and the jaguar's claws were impatiently raking the floor. This decided the werewolf. It turned tail and quickly vacated the premises. The three other animals followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Homorphus_ isn't my own invention, it was taken from KimRay's fanfiction [Der Herr der Zeit](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1966134/1/Der-Herr-der-Zeit) (E: The Lord of Time - to my knowledge, it has sadly never been translated). Still one of my favourites. ^^ It's possible I have unwittingly included ideas from other fics, as well - at the time I originally wrote this, I was new to fanfiction and in the middle of a reading splurge to end all splurges. :P All of those lovely fics were rattling around in my head as I wrote... But then, who ever really manages to write something entirely *new*? ^^


	5. Breton Coast, New Headquarters of the Black Snakes

_So I wake in the morning and I step outside_   
_I take a deep breath and I get real high_   
_And I scream from the top of my lungs what's goin' on?_

_-'What's up?', Linda Perry_

* * *

Hermione slowly woke up. She had immense difficulty shaking off the sleep, but somehow she had the feeling that she could not afford to sleep any longer. She tried raising her head but let it fall back down right away. Heavens, this hurt! What was wrong with her? Was she suffering from a hangover? _Don't be ridiculous_ , she scolded herself, _You've never been drunk._

_Not true_ , a different voice spoke up, _in my last school year, I did a drinking contest with Draco - won it, too. The next morning, I was so sick I did not feel like much of a winner, though. I have no idea how I held out that long..._

Right. There had been that incident. On Halloween.

On Halloween? On Halloween, she had disappeared into the bushes with Ron and they had kissed passionately. When was she supposed to have gotten drunk with Draco? Wait: Draco? Could she possibly mean Malfoy by that?

_The first person to honestly fall in love with me and who will never abandon me. Draco._

But no, this was all terribly wrong!

Helplessly, she shook her head. Where did all those conflicting memories hail from? Both sets felt true, but which ones were right? There was no way they could both be right - was there? Had she lost her mind?

"Hermione." A soft voice shook her from her thoughts' panicked racing in circles.

She looked up and saw... "Harry!" And suddenly recent events returned to her consciousness. Those memories were Harry's!

Appalled, she shoved the memory of the joint binging with Draco far away, along with all the others that had a similar feel to them. She banished them to the hind-most corner of her mind and mentally sealed them with at least fifty locks.

Then she took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

"How are you feeling?" Harry questioned cautiously. He wanted to know how things stood with her mental health, but he could hardly just ask.

"I have a headache. And my legs have fallen asleep."

Harry laughed softly. "Fallen asleep? Small wonder, really, you slept for nearly a week and we did not move you during that entire time. As tense as you were beforehand, it was rather bound to leave some traces. As to the headache, I'm even less surprised by that. Your head had a lot to work through, and if it managed that in just a week, it's really no wonder that it's hurting."

Hermione considered his words for a moment and decided he was definitely correct. She could recall bits and pieces of the events that followed Harry's _Homorphus_ and of the chaos that had reigned in her head.

She had thought she was Harry! If her head had managed all by itself to separate the different memories from each other to the point where she could tell which set were hers and which the foreign ones, she must truly have been hard at work during that week.

"Tell me, Hermione, what do you remember?" Harry now asked directly, after all.

"Everything," she simply replied. "Everything that ever happened to you or to me."

Harry briefly just stared at her; then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. "You did it! I am so happy! I am so happy I did not overestimate you!"

Hermione was baffled. She had not expected that. _But you really should have_ , the tiny voice she had believed to have banished to the hindmost corner of her mind just a moment ago announced. What was that supposed to mean?

She mulled this over and in doing so unknowingly opened her fifty locks that were supposed to keep Harry's memories contained. At once, she realized what the voice had meant. Harry had certainly been worried sick about her. He had hoped she would survive the _Homorphus_ mentally unharmed, but hadn't been one hundred percent sure.

That might not have bothered him were he really the psychopath she had taken him for until recently; or the untouchable ice man he had appeared to be once or twice before that. But it did bother him, for he had never actually meant to harm anyone.

Even the _Cruciatus_ against his uncle - which, upon closer consideration, Hermione did not think all that out of place - was cause for self-reproach for Harry, with hindsight. It just wasn't in his nature to torture others. Pranking them, yes; making them mad enough to go ballistic, yes, of course; harm them? Never.

Harry reluctantly let go of Hermione and shyly looked at her. "Can you forgive me for what I have done to you?"

This, of course, she should have been expecting, as well. It still baffled her anyway. Just a week ago, anger and a thirst for revenge had driven him to risk her descent into madness, just so that for _once_ , she'd actually understand who he was - and now he was asking for her forgiveness?

"Harry, you big ox, after all you've been through there's only one of us that has to beg for forgiveness: me."

Harry looked at her pretty sheepishly.

With a tired little smile, Hermione continued. "If I let myself get too immersed in your world of thoughts, I am overcome by a very strong urge to end my life. You live with this urge. And I am partly to blame for it. Of course I have to apologize!"

"Oh. If you put it that way..."

"Hey! That still doesn't mean I approve of how you have toyed with my mind!" she snorted indignantly. "On the other hand, all that _knowledge_..."

Harry stared at her for a moment in complete bafflement, then he broke into gales of laughter together with her. "Typical 'Mione," they both said in unison.

Harry grinned. "You know, the disadvantage for me in this whole thing is that you now know me as well as no-one else. Not even Draco. You can probably read me like an open book - oh, bad comparison..."

Hermione looked pretty amused. "Don't sweat it. After such a deep look into your past and present, I'd rather kill myself than harm you. See this?" With these words, she pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown, confident in what she would find there. And truly: a very clear, black phoenix adorned her arm.

"Hermione! I'm glad."

"Too much by half, I dare say," came an amused voice from the door.

Harry and Hermione turned and saw Draco Malfoy casually leaning against the door frame. "Honestly, Harry, the way you're behaving, one wouldn't believe that you are talking to Number Two on your hit list for "Harry Potter's Great Vendetta"."

Harry and Hermione shared a mischievous smile. "She _was_ Number Two, Draco, but my vengeance has been conducted and and she is now off the list. Maybe we'll even be friends."

Draco snorted good-naturedly. "'Maybe even'... yeah, sure. Harry, I can see the strong ink of her phoenix from here!"

Harry smiled and gave Draco the most apologetic puppy dog eyes. "Caught me."

"And how do you propose to come to an agreement about Ronald Weasley?" Draco now asked.

"Oh, good question!" Harry admitted. Curious and a little anxious, he looked at Hermione.

She smiled sadly. "I know exactly what you're thinking, Harry Potter. But you should not always worry so much about others. I do _not_ have a problem with you taking a little revenge on Ron, and even if I've seen him now from your perspective, I still love him. I further understand that a stay with the Dursleys is truly a severe punishment, though maybe not as bad as a botched _Homorphus_...

"Now don't go blaming yourself again, you silly man! I know very well that you wouldn't have done it if you'd had any doubt about my ability to cope with it. - At any rate, I'm grateful that after all the crimes Ron committed against you, you let him live, and I am quite positive that he will finish up his punishment in a state where he is still of use to me." She smiled salaciously.

Draco was fascinated. "Hermione Granger, there's a little bit of Harry shining through your character right now..."

"Hey!" Harry protested, laughing.

"Now please," Hermione corrected, "I am a big girl all by myself. Up to now, though, I preferred to keep my thoughts to myself and present myself as a reasonable person. But school's over and _something_ in my mind is telling me that here, unlike at my parents' home, my jokes will not fall flat, so why not?" Merry sparks were dancing in her eyes.

Draco's fascination grew. "You know, Harry, I am starting to understand how you could have befriended her, back then. She isn't all that bad, really."

"Oh, thank you for the compliment," Hermione laughed. Then she breathed " _Dra-c-oooh..."_

Harry and Draco both turned a lovely shade of red.

"So tell me, Draco, is it actually true that you both are utterly clueless?"

Were it even possible, the flush might have deepened further at her words. Hermione dissolved in a fit of giggles that lasted several minutes and exhausted her to the point where she simply fell back asleep, hoping that when she next woke, her headache would have magically disappeared.


	6. A Small Café next to the Centre Pompidou, Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter to celebrate the switch to summer time (even though I just lost an hour, darn.) Still, that's one step closer to summer. :P

* * *

_Die Gedanken sind frei,_   
_wer kann sie erraten?_   
_Sie fliegen vorbei_   
_Wie nächtliche Schatten..._

_\- German folk song, early 19_ _ th  _ _century (Translation available[on wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Die_Gedanken_sind_frei).) _

* * *

Harry leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He still had a good half an hour until Draco and Hermione would join him. Until then, for the first time since his rescue from St. Mungo's, he had the leisure to calmly think about everything.

Hermione... He was surprised that the thought of her was no longer accompanied by any rage or disappointment. In the week she had been unconscious, he had come to understand that he still cared for her. Although they had become estranged these last two years, still she had been one of his two first and best friends for all of their earlier school years.

That friendship had been real. Amidst the rage that had gripped him these past months, he had successfully banished that fact from his mind; but with the worries about Hermione's sanity, it had returned. Maybe Hermione had betrayed him, but she had still been one of the most important people in his life for many years. He did not want to destroy her.

The relief he had felt when it became clear that she was still in full control of her magnificent brain had been an epiphany to Harry. Without ever meaning to or even really being aware at first, he had in that instant simply forgiven her.

He pensively swivelled the coffee in his cup and took a small sip. Ron, he would not be able to forgive this easily, for it had been him, in his eternal envy and childish jealousy, that had first turned from Harry and taken Hermione with him.

But something was telling him that deep down, he also wanted to have Ron back. The Ron who had breached the third floor corridor alongside him; who had joined him in following the spiders into the forest, despite his severe arachnophobia; with whom he had fought and reconciled times without measure.

Would they be able to reconcile even this time? The chasm was as deep as never before, and Ron seemed so very changed... Besides, Harry was still furious with him. Even though the experience with Hermione had taught him that he just wasn't the type to keep a grudge until the day he died, right now he was still bearing a rather _large_ grudge and thought Ron had earned his vacation with the Dursleys many times over.

No, he did not want to think about Ron Weasley right this moment.

He put down his cup as the coffee threatened to spill when his hand started trembling with suppressed fury. _Weasley._ The name left a very stale aftertaste. No matter his Snakes' thoughts, Ron and Hermione were not the top names on his (s)hit list.

First place there went to Molly Weasley. Ron's pretend-kidnapping had primarily been targeted at her. Harry had felt an unholy glee when on top of this, Percy had joined his ranks that same day.

However, he had been deeply disconcerted by the realization that his place of residence was so easy to find that even Percy had managed it. Never mind the phoenix symbol on his arm, he still should not have been able to find them this fast.

Thus Harry had bought a property in France, close to a small, sleepy village on the Breton coast. They had called the place "The Snake Pit".

No British wizard would come looking for them here. For some strange reason, the search for him was absolutely confined on Great Britain. Sometimes, he had a hard time coming to terms with the immense obtuseness of the leading figures of the British wizarding world.

Fudge. Dumbledore. Even Voldemort, when he was still alive - or rather: _existing_ \- all of them had only ever considered England in their plans.

Voldemort had recruited help from other countries once or twice, and yet his conquest of the world just _had to_ begin in England - where, as far as he knew, he was doomed to die at Harry Potter's hand.

Just how narrow-minded could a person be? Dumbledore's Phoenix Order was even more limited in its perspective: it was comprised exclusively of English members and dedicated entirely to protecting beloved England from dark wizards (and, much though the purebloods disliked it, the rest of the British Isles as well, since Hogwarts was located in Scottland.)

The Ministry of Magic was worse still. The Quidditch Cup had shown splendidly just how badly prepared the Ministry was to meet wizards from other countries. Not even interpreters for the most important guests had been organized! The English wizarding world really was a world of its own, cut off not only from the Muggles, but also from the rest of the world.

Maybe they should teach languages at Hogwarts, Harry thought; he knew it was a requirement in many Muggle schools. Then they could organize student exchanges and broaden the horizons of the magical bourgeoisie. God knew they could use that. Maybe then, people would not be so vehemently opposed to any and all changes.

Honestly, why wear scratchy woollen pants when there were viscose and elastane? Why not use mobiles and cars? They did function outside of Hogwarts, after all. They were a damn sight more comfortable than conversations and transportation through the floo network, which only offered a limited number of exits, to boot. It wasn't like everyone was capable of apparating.

But no, people were set in their ways, opposed to progress, in a word: utterly conservative. For a moment, Harry wondered what the wizarding world would say if they learned that he was gay. Severus and Hermione had been cool with it, but they had both already known him well at that point.

What standing did homosexuals have in the wizarding world? Conservative as it was, probably an even worse one than in the Muggle world. He would have this question answered by his Snakes soon, he expected, since he was not about to keep his relationship with Draco secret.

Then again, they would probably somehow manage to accept it, after all, they liked him and stood by him, no matter in how many ways he had already deviated from the norm. They would be able to deal with this being a part of him as much as everything else.

Harry smiled. Yes, his Snakes were an open-minded lot. They did not discriminate against anyone. Neither former Death Eaters nor dark wizards, werewolves or house elves...

Dobby had learned from Remus where Harry now resided, and he and Winky had moved to France without delay to take care of the big mansion where the Snakes now had their headquarters – which, in not a few cases, meant that they permanently lived there. His arm, as well, proudly displayed the symbol of the black phoenix.

The rest of the wizarding world was a different case entirely. The ministry made strict laws against werewolves and vampires, magical creatures could be executed for showing the merest hint of temper, underage wizards did not have any rights anyway and shockingly little protection – and if the great hero, vanquisher of Voldemort and highly-vaunted ideal, preached anything but sunshine, fluffy bunnies and forgiveness and stopped letting everyone and their dog take advantage of him, he was proclaimed mad at the drop of a hat.

The very people who used to be his surrogate family had been the least understanding and simply written him off as addle-brained. Fury boiled up inside Harry. Molly Weasley would pay. She would rue the day she had stood against him and his friends. He would take from her every single one of her children, in one way or another, until she was left all alone. Then she would understand what betrayal felt like.

Percy was his; Ron was believed to be dead. Fred and George were as good as in his pocket. The twins had dug their own grave when three years ago, they had insisted on a proper contract with Harry, confirming with their signatures that they would pay back the loaned money for the start of their business to Harry down to the last knut.

Harry knew from the goblins at Gringotts that a large part of their products had been destroyed in a recent explosion, caused by their insatiable thirst for experimentation. All of their capital has then been invested in raw materials for replacing the lost products – they were broke.

They could not transfer the monthly rates to Harry's vault that they were obliged to pay starting one year after starting the business; that year had been over three months ago. He had them.

Probably they were themselves as yet unaware of it, since Harry had vanished from the eye of the public and no-one expected him to show up in Diagon Alley to check his account statements. But he did not have to. There was a Gringotts branch in Paris.

The goblins, it seemed, had a far broader horizon than the wizards and acted as an international conglomeration. Also, they did not care about a wizard's reputation in society; they had their own methods to ward against foul play. Harry assumed that even Voldemort had had a Gringotts vault. What had become of that? Maybe the goblins were keeping the contents safe for the next resurrection of the dark lord, you never knew...

Thanks to the goblins' unprepossessed approach to business, Harry had access to enough money to purchase a new headquarters for his Snakes – and to the knowledge how to put the Weasley twins out of commission.

Ginny, as far as he knew, still had a crush on him. Maybe he could use that against Mrs. Weasley.

Bill and Charley were usually far away from home, maybe he could pretend – or organize – their disappearance; or seduce them to his side. After all, due to their work, they were the most open-minded and sensible of the Weasleys, including the "eclectrizity"-loving Mr. Weasley.

Yes, he would show Molly Weasley what it was like to lose those people that you cared about more than anything. She had sent Severus to Azkaban, destroyed Draco's reputation and had Harry himself locked up as a madman. She had been the driving force behind all of that. That... that...!

Annoyed, he reached for his coffee once more and slurped a few sips. A young woman at the neighbouring table threw him an irritated look, but when he sheepishly smiled at her, she suddenly beamed at him and soon started furtively whispering with her neighbour.

It would seem that the many changes to his outer had not damaged his allure for the ladies. He sighed when Ginny Weasley and Cho Chang came to his mind.

Cho had been an egocentrical beast, demanding understanding and support without any consideration for Harry's feelings. Ginny was a nasty groupie. After the rescue mission in his second year, Harry could have demanded she repay him by serving him like a personal house elf and she would happily have done it. Just as long as she got to be close to her personal hero and become the object of other girls' envy. Disgusting.

He shook his head to chase away the dark thoughts and tried to relax. The sun was shining warmly on his face, loud children's laughter reached his ears.

Harry benignly watched a little girl walking the rim of the fountain, never taking her eyes off the colourful objects of art turning and swinging to and fro above the water. She wasn't paying attention to where she put her feet. Where was the mother? He looked about inquisitively, but none of the women next to the fountain seemed to notice the girl's actions, all of theme were engrossed in their conversations.

Splash. As was to be expected, the child had stumbled and fallen head-first into the water. Harry remained seated and watched the events unfolding. The fountain was not deep and it was a warm day in early autumn; yet the child sat in the water, confusedly observing its soaked clothes and beginning to cry.

Finally, the women on the benches noticed that something was wrong, and one of them walked across to the little girl at a brisk pace, lifting her out of the fountain while scolding her fiercely. The child cried a little louder still while the woman grabbed a stroller containing a baby and began the track home with her two children.

The girl left a trail of dark, wet drops on the ground. It was mid-august already and despite the warm sunshine, there were some random gusts of cold wind. Hopefully, the little one would not catch a cold.

The girl's mother seemed to share Harry's concern, for as the woman with the two children was rounding the corner with Harry's café table, he saw her cast a furtive eye about, then lift a wand a few inches from her pocket and in a supposedly unobserved moment, hex the little girl dry.

Harry quietly smiled to himself. Really, in England it was so easy to forget that there were wizards and witches in other countries, as well. Despite the Quidditch World Cup, Tri-Wizard Tournament and the Weird Sisters' tour of Europe. All of those were brief events, snap-shot like, that appeared in a rush and were gone again even more quickly. The game or the music would be remembered for years to come, but the presence and involvement of foreign wizards was forgotten all too soon.

The French family turned another corner and vanished from Harry's sight. Family. It must be nice to have a family. He'd lost his to a prophecy and a madman. Thanks to Dumbledore he hadn't gotten replacements for them for the1 first eleven years of his life, either. Following that, he had tried to learn what a real family was like from the Weasleys, but that failed, too.

His only real family had probably been Sirius. Since Hermione's performance at the Riddle mansion, he was once more aware of how much the knowledge that he had a godfather had meant to him, back then. The hope that he could move in with Sirius had provided one of the happiest moments of his life. Unfortunately, it had been short-lived. Damn short-lived. Thanks to Fudge and his merry band of idiots.

Why did the word of an underage wizard count for nothing, even if he was the prophesied saviour of the wizarding world? Really, the laws were in need of a thorough overhaul.

Sirius's name was pretty far up on the list of people who had betrayed him. He had busily planned his revenge and learned to hate the animagus from the bottom of his heart since the man had contributed to Severus's sentence to Azkaban and Harry's stint in St. Mungo's. How could he have walked around still carrying a grudge from their childhood?! Born of an enmity that, as far as he could tell, had been started by the Marauders, and not Severus!

Harry sighed. Admittedly, no-one had ever accused his godfather of extreme intelligence.

Harry's plans of vengeance had been shattered when Sirius so unexpectedly appeared during Hermione's sad re-enactment of "The Life of Harry" and stated howling like the dog he was. First, Hermione was looking broken, and now Sirius?

How was he supposed to enjoy his revenge like that? Harry had been unable to deal with the situation and gratefully taken the easy way out which Remus's transformation had provided. He had spent an enjoyable night with Draco, Severus and Remus, who after a short time away from humans had come back to himself.

The two wolves, the jaguar and the eagle had roamed the forest and Remus had said with a nostalgic voice, yet sparkling eyes, that he felt transported back to his youth when he had been marauding with Harry's father, Sirius and Pettigrew.

Oh yes, one more person to take vengeance upon in due time. Too many Death Eaters were still running around free in Harry's opinion. The rat was one of them. But first, there was another candidate to take care of. Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been told that my Harry does not roar or rampage, and I suppose that's at least partially true. He's much too forgiving. Do you think I should change the summary? Am unsure. Feedback appreciated.


	7. Riddle Manor, The Day after the Full Moon

_"On ne connait que les choses que l'on apprivoise", dît le renard. "Les hommes n'ont plus de temps à rien connaître. Ils achètent des choses toutes faites chez les marchands. Mais comme il n'y a pas de marchands d'amis, les hommes n'ont plus d'amis. Si tu veux un ami, apprivoise-moi."_

_\- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 'Le Petit Prince'_

* * *

Harry tiredly sank down on the king size bed next to Draco, peaceably ignoring the fact that he still had a prisoner to take care of. His Snakes surely would keep an eye on things for him...

He did not wake till the afternoon. And then only because Draco decided that Harry had slept long enough. Harry had looked so sweet and innocent in his sleep that Draco just had to kiss and cuddle him. Harry hadn't been impressed with having his sleep interrupted, but Draco had quickly made up for that faux-pas.

While taking a refreshing cold shower, Harry blissfully considered that Draco must know a trifle more than him about sex, if just the blond's kisses could already arouse him to the point that... hmhmhm...

Later, the two of them shared a hearty breakfast. "Harry, aren't you hungry?" Draco asked when Harry once again seemed to just stare through the pretzel in his hands, unmoving.

Harry, forced to stop ignoring the reality around him, took a large bite out of the pretzel before answering his boyfriend. "I fear I am simply in no great hurry to finish my breakfast and confront Black," he mumbled embarrassedly.

Draco stopped wondering and nodded his understanding. "I can come with you, if you like. I assume you are now struggling with the same problem as you were with Granger?"

Harry nodded darkly. "As long as I can hate them, life is simple. But if they seem nearly like they used to be, things get complicated..."

Draco stood up, wrapped his arms around Harry and squeezed him tightly to himself. "Do not over-think it, my black phoenix. No-one is forcing you to take revenge. You have all of our support if you choose to take revenge on those who have wronged you, but if you spare a few people that show remorse, we are certainly capable of accepting that, as well.

"After all, each and every one of us has contributed to your misery at some point or other; and you have forgiven us all: the mean Slytherins, the evil professor, he know-it-all, the werewolf, even your relatives to a point, the murderously helpful house elf, … and me, your former arch rival.

"How could we then speak up against your decision to forgive even more people? No matter your decision, Harry, we stand behind you. So quit your worrying."

He softly kissed Harry's neck. Harry turned around until his mouth met his lover's and wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders. His lips opened slightly when Draco's tongue prodded them. Both boys sank into the kiss which grew increasingly passionate, soon being amended by hands teasingly slipping under shirts, hips pressing against each other, and goose-bumps breaking out...

Harry dreamily threaded the comb through his mop of hair. Draco had obviously approved of Harry's wish to procrastinate and helped him with that task with the utmost dedication. When Harry finally left the bathroom and made his way to the "guest" room along with Draco, his gaze landed on an ancient wall clock. It was five p.m.

* * *

"Hello Blaise. How is the spy doing?" Harry asked the boy standing guard in front of the door.

Blaise observed Harry's flushed face and, happily ignoring his question, answered with one of his own: "What have you been up to? You look ruffled, like you've been jogging for hours, or fighting, when we all thought you were just sleeping in after the long night and Hermione's terrifying performance, same as Professor Snape..."

He broke off when he noticed the flush deepening on Harry's face and Draco's cheeks acquiring a rosy tint, as well. "Ah, so that is how things are." He grinned.

"To answer your question: Black only calmed down after several hours and I don't think he slept. When Oliver brought him breakfast, he asked to be allowed to speak with you. When we brought in lunch and you still hadn't shown, he appeared somewhat desperate. Hasn't eaten anything."

Harry looked at Draco, seeming crestfallen. "Doesn't sound like he regained his spirit. Dammit. If this trend continues, I'll never get a chance to let off some steam. Speaking of... Tell me, Blaise, how is Hermione doing?"

Blaise nervously licked his lips before giving a reluctant answer. "The night was... uneasy. You'd best talk to Pansy about it."

"Alright, I'll go find her right away. Draco, could you inform Severus of everything that's happened since yesterday?"

"And what about Black?"

"Black can wait."

Harry wasn't entirely certain, but it seemed to him that a quiet sob came from the other side of the door. _So what_ , he thought uncharitably and pretended to be deaf.

* * *

"Pansy?" Harry asked, knocking on the girl's door.

"Come in," she answered.

Harry entered she small room and sat down on the desk chair. Pansy was sitting on the bed, arms and legs stretched out tiredly, her back against the wall. It seems she hadn't gotten much sleep last night, either.

"Blaise told me there was some trouble with Hermione last night. Tell me. What was wrong?"

Pansy sat up a little straighter and looked at Harry with serious eyes. "She woke up when we wanted to put her to bed. Apparently, she was still fighting with the impressions she had gotten from you. Time and again, your memories got the upper hand and she tried to take her own life. Then again there were moments when she seemed completely herself. Then she'd cry "What have I done!" or some such, always with the subtext that everyone was guilty towards you and you'd never forgive her.

"These moments also ended in attempted suicides. All in all, she pulled off a good dozen of them before we could put her down with a _Dreamless Sleep._ Ever since, she's been sleeping so deeply and quietly it's mildly terrifying... - Harry, wait!"

She started to her feet and went to grab Harry's arm, the young man having gone deadly white as she spoke and, at her last words, turning around to head directly for Hermione.

Pansy did not manage to hold him back, so she reluctantly led him towards the room where Hermione had been put up. She silently watched as the "new dark lord" gazed upon one of his first victims, stricken, checking if the young witch was still breathing and finally leaving the room, still with a rather pale face. _He's really too kind-hearted for this world_ , she once again noted as she looked after him, shaking her head.

* * *

Harry entered the room where they had locked his godfather, followed closely by Severus and Draco. He found Sirius Black sitting on the floor in one of the room's corners. Somehow it reminded him of his first encounter with the animagus. His cheeks may be fuller now, clothes and hair well cared-for; yet in the depths of his eyes lurked the same haunted look he had worn back then, like an animal trapped in a corner.

"Sirius Black." Harry's voice was neutral, betraying none of the anger, the insecurity and the pain that raged inside him. The man on the floor mutely looked at Harry with wide open eyes, his gaze having gone a little more unstable still at the impersonal address.

"Harry," Severus spoke up with a disparaging tone, "maybe we should come back later. It would seem your guest does not wish to speak to you."

Harry's brows wrinkled until a severe frown crunched up his face. "Draco, what do you think?"

Draco put his arms around Harry's neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I think Severus is right. There are many occupations more worthwhile than waiting for a dog to begin speaking..."

The topic of their discussion was watching the intimate gesture with obvious disbelief before further folding in on himself. Just when Harry was turning away with the others, ready to leave, he finally found his voice. "Harry...?"

Sighing, Harry turned back around. It was just his luck that he could not put off this conversation for an indeterminate time longer. "Yes?"

The man on the floor did not look at Harry, but was observing his feet while he quietly said: "Harry, are these two people your friends?"

Harry felt annoyed. Did he want to continue his fight with Severus even now?

"The best," he said, his voice betraying the thinly veiled disgust.

The animagus did not miss the change in tone. Hunching in on himself even further, he said: "Then I suppose it is time that I ask their forgiveness for all I have done to them."

Woah. Where had that come from?

"And why, Mister Black, should I grant such forgiveness?" Severus asked coldly.

Now Sirius Black finally looked up. "You should not, for I do not deserve it. But I would like you to know that I have not died a complete idiot, but regretted at least some of my mistakes."

Draco did not like this speech one bit. "Please explain to me right now what you mean by 'dying'."

Harry gave Draco an astonished look. Could he be worrying about the animagus for Harry's sake?

Sirius once more looked down. "I learned yesterday that I was a complete failure as a godfather. And as a person." He lifted one hand and carelessly started counting on his fingers.

"My godson, the son of my best friend, was left with magic-hating Muggles and I did nothing to prevent it." His thumb went up.

"After my breakout from Azkaban, I only caused him further troubles and roused false hopes for a family which I could not fulfil." The second digit.

"I noticed none of his cries for help and did not understand why he was drawing back from his friends more and more." Another finger.

"Two of the very few people who were there for him like I should have been, I have judged and fought against based on old enmities and in doing so taken away even his last support." The fourth digit.

"I wanted to believe he had no reason to hate the world and so I did not protest when they pronounced him insane." The hand tiredly sank down to the floor.

"I kept following Dumbledore like a well-trained dog. I have betrayed you and abandoned you, Harry." He lifted his head and determinedly looked at Harry. "Yesterday, I came here as a spy on Dumbledore's orders. But now I know I have chosen the wrong side. But it is too late to switch sides. I belong to the Order of the Phoenix down to the very pores of my skin, see?"

He abruptly pulled up his shirt sleeve and pointed to the black phoenix adorning his lower arm. "This night, when I realized I should have believed you no matter what the rest of the world might say, this appeared on my skin." He shook his head in disgust. "It reminds me of the Dark Mark."

He did not notice Draco and Severus exchanging amused glances.

"I believe this means that I am bound to the Order of the Phoenix, no matter how much I might wish differently now. But I do not want to continue living in a web of lies. So I thought to myself, if you don't end my life, I will." The matter-of-factness of his voice was shocking.

But if Sirius had thought his heroic decision would earn him some pity, he was sadly mistaken. Draco could no longer contain himself and started giggling. Severus wanted to give a derisive snort, but he, as well, let out an entirely un-Snapeish sound of the greatest amusement instead.

This in turn caused Harry to give in to the situational comedy and put aside his anger at another lost opportunity for revenge. Against his will, the corners of Harry's mouth turned up and his laughter joined in with the others'. The laughter seemed to break the tension that had gathered with the past days' emotional stress and as though a dam had been broken, it swelled and soon filled the entire room with its merry sound.

Sirius Black stared aghast at the three grown men leaning against each other's shoulders so as not to keel over with laughter, fighting for composure. Did he cut such a ridiculous figure with his confessions and his wish for forgiveness or death? Or had Harry gone mad after all...?

"Draco, Severus," Harry huffed once he had managed to draw some breath, "please enlighten him about that symbol."

"I'd rather not," Draco said, still giggling.

"Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because then he might lose that expression. And that's priceless." He pointed to the now completely stumped animagus.

Severus, who had just managed to find some control over his own laughter, followed Draco's gesture with his eyes and after one look at the flabbergasted wizard on the floor, lost it again.


	8. Paris

_ "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things [...]" _

_ \- Hermione Granger in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone _

* * *

In the end, Harry had indulged Draco and sent Sirius home - without a word of explanation. Just an express prohibition to show his mark to anyone, to tell the truth about the previous night's events, or - to take his own life, he had given the irredeemably confused man to take home with him. Let him live with the uncertainty for a few days, that was a fitting punishment for his misdeeds against Draco and Severus. 

As to his betrayal of Harry himself, he once again noted that he could not really stay mad at someone who honestly regretted his mistakes. In past years, with Ron, he'd often stuck to his guns and kept him in the doghouse if the redhead was clearly in the wrong. Actually, that's what he would still do today. But if someone openly admitted that they were at fault...

Harry sighed. His vengeance wasn't at all panning out like he had imagined. Hermione was already cheekily dancing rings around him once more. She had gotten out of her sick bed just yesterday, and today she was already jumping a secret plan on him that required him and Draco to meet her in Paris. Harry had to head into town anyway to put things in motion with the twins, so he had agreed. 

Hermione had changed since he had cast the _Homorphus_ on her. On one hand, she had grown more introverted and thoughtful; at times, she seemed to be very far away, lost in her - or Harry's? - own thoughts. The corners of her mouth fell and she seemed infinitely sad. On the other hand, as if needing to make up for the unusual melancholy, there were times when she was crackling with perky humour and her sharp tongue was cutting the ranks of the Snakes down to size like the finest blade. 

It was this second side of her personality that had first earned her the Snakes' favour. The ice had started to melt. When it became clear that Harry was once more counting her amongst his friends, it had broken completely and Hermione basked in the entirely new sensation of belonging to a community in which everyone was different, had different dreams and purposes, but still got along. For they all had one thing in common: They considered Harry their friend and their leader. This notion was in itself fairly startling; that it was shared by so many made it extraordinary. Hermione was content.

"Harry!" Suddenly, Hermione and Draco were standing in front of him. He hadn't even seen them coming, so deep in thought had he been. Well, now he would find out what Hermione had planned for the two of them. 

"Hey lover." Draco's arm wrapped around Harry's hips as he breathed a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry casually noticed that the lady at the next table heaved a disappointed sigh. He flushed a little and twisted out of Draco's grip. 

Said man frowned at him. "Please don't tell me you're ashamed of me."

Harry turned a deeper shade of red and mumbled something incomprehensible. 

"What's that?" Draco asked irritably. 

"I said I am simply not used to anyone truly loving me. I want to cry from joy every time I once more become aware of this." He did not look at Draco when he continued. "That really would be a bit embarrassing. That's why I'd rather keep a little distance from you in public."

Draco only quietly said "Oh, okay." But inside, he was cheering. That's how much he meant to Harry?

Hermione had watched the two boys with an impish smile. Now she cleared her throat to retrieve them from their own little world. "Are you ready, boys?"

Harry nodded. He'd already paid for his coffee and was curious as to what Hermione had in store for him. 

"Great! Paris, City of Love, here we come!" He wasn't sure he liked that sparkle in Hermione's eyes, but it felt soothing to see her so happy, and far be it from him to seriously mistrust her. He hadn't quite gotten over the long days of wondering if he might have destroyed her mind yet. 

Now, however, she was walking ahead of him with her brown ponytail bouncing merrily, humming quietly to herself. Oh yes, Hermione was definitely up to something! 

The other Snakes had recently been busy compiling information on the Ministry, furtively contacting possible future members in Diagon Alley, and sowing rumours. Some had hunted for the last Death Eaters still roaming free, and had already unearthed a cue or three about their whereabouts. 

And Hermione? She had ruminatively sat on her bed and made her own plans. 

Hermione came to a halt in front of an unremarkable building in a side alley. "This is it."

Harry looked at the glowing neon sign above the entrance. _Café Virus* - Le monde entier au petit prix._

"Hermione? Why did we come here?" he asked, puzzled. Why would they go to a Muggle internet café? This could hardly be relevant to any plans of revenge or Death Eaters. What purpose could the smart book worshipper want at a place like this?

Hermione gifted him with a dazzling smile that invoked a rather dark premonition and was the first to enter the shop. She quickly gave the bored-looking man in his thirties the cash for one hour and dragged the boys over to a computer in the backmost corner. 

Harry once again admired the knowledge of the French language the Muggle-born witch had gained during numerous vacations with her parents. _Blimey, her parents!_ The thought abruptly flashed through his mind. The two of them were probably half dead with worry about their daughter who had inexplicably vanished over a week ago...

"Um, Hermione, your parents..." Harry began.

The girl only spared him a quick glance, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. "I already came here this morning and e-mailed them. I told them I am well and not to tell any wizard about my disappearance - or, if it's already too late for that, of my reappearance. I had probably best visit them in person tonight, and tell them about everything in detail. Then I can also make sure they will not betray my secrets." 

Harry was impressed with her forethought.

"There, I've got it," Hermione proudly announced. On the screen, several windows were opened.  _wikipedia_ , Harry read in one of them, and  _boyxboy_ ** in another one. He looked a bit more closely at the first text.  _"_ _This article is about homosexuality in humans. For homosexuality in other animals, see Homosexual behavior in animals,"_ it read. He flushed at once and gave his friend a doubtful look. For what reason...?

"I figured since the both of you are such innocent choirboys, a bit of reading on the topic wouldn't go amiss. I have picked a few websites for you where you can get some informations, you can find anything from hard facts over pictures to highly detailed stories on the internet. In this, Muggles are far ahead of us; the wizarding world does not possess anything like the internet. You better believe that otherwise, I'd have spent a far smaller part of my schooldays in the library! Why, just during the last holidays, while searching for Muggle translations for ancient runes, I stumbled upon some awfully exciting websites..."

Her eyes took on a far-away expression while two male beings looked at her as though she came from another planet. 

"Well, never mind that now," she pulled herself back together, "at any rate, you two lovelies are going to educate yourselves right here and now. Good research is the be-all and end-all of life. I'll just show you how to work this..."

And she was off on an introduction to internet use for the two young men, teaching them the best search methods and so on. Harry was about as clueless as his lover in this; the Dursleys didn't have an internet access, uncle Vernon rejected "that newfangled falderal" on principle. Dudley had, of course, been able to surf the web at his friends' places, ogling adults-only pages and playing the latest bloodthirsty ego shooters. 

Harry, in contrast, had not had any friends and as such was still thoroughly unversed in all things internet. 

"Well boys, I'll leave you to it. Have fun!"

Before the two wizards had shaken their numbness, Hermione was already out the door with a little wave back at them. 

"Now what?" They looked at each other. Slowly, Harry extended his hand towards the mouse. "Should we...?" he hesitantly asked his boyfriend. 

Draco just looked at him wordlessly; he was equally as embarrassed by the entire thing as Harry. "Why did you have to go and transfer _all_ your memories to her anyway? Wouldn't a few choice ones have sufficed?"

Harry was visibly abashed. "Possibly so... But I was just so angry. I did not think. I wanted her to really understand me this time, so I held nothing back... I'm sorry," he finished sheepishly. 

Harry's shy tone caused a little smile to blossom on Draco's face. His friend was a real angel. - But that, precisely, was one of their problems. Contrary to what Harry thought, he knew through his contact with the Death Eaters at least the theory of what two men could do in bed together; but how was he supposed to explain that to his innocent Harry?

As long as Harry did not take any steps on his own, Draco thought it prudent to hold himself back, lest he frighten off the naïve Gryffindor in his lover. Besides, with many things, he wasn't entirely certain himself if he'd really understood them correctly.

Maybe Granger's - _Hermione, she's Harry's friend again -_ idea had some merit. 

"Alright, let's do this." Harry and he furtively looked around once more, checking for anyone watching them, then Harry opened the first window and they started to read...

They had to hand the man behind the register supplementary payments several times before they finally left the internet café hand in hand, followed by his suspicious gaze. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I actually once saw an internet café by the name of "Virus". It was located in St. Petersburg, though, not in Paris.  
> **boyxboy is the name of a German-language original m/m fiction archive


	9. The Ministry of Magic, Court Room 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit of smut in this chapter. If you don't care for that, just skip the evening at headquarters and continue reading at Two Days Later. ...Actually, looking at it again now, I find that there's more smut than plot in this chapter. Oops? :P

__Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing  
Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning  
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong  
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay it's Independence Day

_ \- Independence Day by Martina Mcbride _

* * *

"Is there anything you wish to add to this?"

The judge looked down on the two young men in front of him. They exchanged a quick glance before one of them cleared his throat. "Umh, meaning no disrespect, but could you tell us again who actually accused us?"

The judge started to get angry. Were these boys playing dumb on purpose?

"Mister Weasley, as you and your brother have already been informed in the subpoena, the plaintiff is the Gringotts bank, with whom you have made a binding contract to regularly transfer the aforementioned sum to the account of another of the bank's customers. Since you are presently insolvent, yet no agreement signed by the other customer has been presented to Gringotts to change or cancel the contract, you now have to answer to this court of law."

The accused wore matching frowns. "Then why is that _other customer_ not here to accuse us to our faces?"

"In such cases, the prosecution is always handled by one of the bank's goblins, as the esteemed Mr. Griphook is doing today" - a nod to the goblin - "for the protection of business secrets. Surely, I do not have to tell you which contract this is about?" He pierced the young wizards with a severe look.

One of the redheads started in a subdued voice: "Well, we have only signed one binding contract, really, back in the day - with Harry..." His twin looked at him in horror. 

"I see you are fully aware what this is about. Well, if you do not succeed in paying the amount due within the next two days, I fear I shall have to transfer the two of you to Azkaban."

Now both twins' faces wore looks of utter despair.

* * *

_ That same evening, at the Snake Pit _

"So did everything go well at the Ministry?"

"Yes, the proceedings have begun. And I am nearly certain that no-one will help the twins. After all, they are not keeping it secret who they owe that money to. And who's going to donate money if it is going to the 'new Dark Lord'?" Harry grinned. 

"I like your Slytherin side, Harry." Draco planted a kiss on his forehead. 

"And I like it when you hold me like this, Dragon."

"Just hold you?" Draco asked predatorily. 

When Harry failed to answer, he started very slowly moving his hands up Harry's back. His lover put up no resistance as he pulled his shirt over his head, but he was trembling under the gentle touch of the soft hands on his bare skin. 

They had not talked about what they had read in the "Café Virus", but they both felt it was hardly necessary. Harry's body had a language of its own and Draco was glad that today, for the first time, it was not trembling with nerves, but with anticipation, and striving towards his hands. 

Haltingly at first, then with increasing determination, Harry's hands now also started roaming his lover's torso. 

They had often held each other close or just caressed each other while kissing, but it had never gone beyond a certain point. Out of consideration for Harry, Draco had held back and waited - in vain - for Harry to finally buy a clue that Draco's body no more ended below his belt than Harry's own did. 

They both felt that today, things would be different. 

Harry was brimming with suppressed tension, he was excited to find out how the things he had read about would translate into reality. He had complete trust in Draco and his hands, yet he knew that Draco had nearly as little experience as he did himself (which was none at all). A little giddily, Harry started opening the buttons of Draco's shirt in order to kiss and lick his nipples. 

Draco moaned. He had not expected his shy Harry to go on the offensive like that. Somehow he had thought Harry would let him lead. 

He had underestimated the former Gryffindor's curiosity and love of adventure. Harry had always had a penchant for jumping head-first into unfamiliar situations. Now was no different. 

Just now, he was taking Draco's hard nipples between the fingers of both hands while slowly drawing a little path down to his navel with his tongue. Draco enjoyed the sensation, but did not want to stay idle himself. He leant in to suck on his boyfriend's throat, fingers curling into the black hair. Harry would have a beautiful love bite tomorrow. 

Draco gasped as Harry's tongue dipped into his navel. One of his hands released its hold of the black hair and came to rest further down on Harry's pale back. From there, it continued on downwards until it met the seam of Harry's pants. It was deterred by that obstacle for a moment, then it found its way underneath the cloth and not much later closed around one of the mightily fine, taut little butt cheeks of the "Lord of the Snakes".

Draco smugly noticed that Harry moaned with abandon when he felt the hand cupping his bottom. 

Nearly as one person, the two young men each decided that it was time to remove the other boy's trousers. For a few seconds, both were puttering around their vis-a-vis's belt buckle and zipper, getting in each other's way. Then they looked up, and after only a short hesitation each quickly got rid of his own garments. 

Now they sat facing each other on the bed clad in nothing but their pants. 

"Harry, are you sure we are not going too fast?" Draco asked. 

"No, we certainly are not," Harry whispered. His cheeks were flushed feverishly, the slightly open lips trembling. "I want you, Draco, and I want all of you."

Harry looked like sin turned flesh. Draco hoped he hadn't abruptly gone pale, what with all the blood in his body apparently rushing down to gather in one single spot. Harry seemed to have noticed, for he lowered his gaze and said with a lascivious grin: "I do not suppose I need to ask if you are ready for this..."

Oh, but this was embarrassing. Draco was about to look away self-consciously when he felt Harry's hand on his cheek. Gently, the young wizard pulled his lover's face towards his own for a kiss. The taste of his mouth, the foreign and yet familiar tongue exploring his own mouth, the feel of the naked, well-toned chest rubbing against his own, made Draco forget his embarrassment. He wrapped his arms around Harry's hips and pulled him in as closely as possible. 

Harry ended up sitting on Draco's left thigh, one knee each to Draco's side and against his crotch. Still they were passionately kissing while Draco's hands kneaded Harry's butt cheeks and Harry had his own Hands buried in Draco's blond hair. 

When they came up for air, Harry leant back a little, causing his knee to slip ever so slightly forward. It bumped gently against Draco's now considerable erection. Draco sighed loudly in pleasure. Did Harry know what he was doing to him with his innocent, light touches?

Draco's sigh was music to Harry's ears. His head was on fire, his body singing with suppressed anticipation. 

Draco suddenly felt a hard something bumping into his side. 

_ Oh my...!!! That's Harry! _

He briefly closed his eyes. Then he captured Harry's lips in another kiss while letting his left hand move as inconspicuously as possible around Harry's hip towards the front. Finally, the long journey was completed and the hand closed gently around Harry's member. 

"Woah!" Harry broke the kiss and was sitting up straight as a lamp post. "Drac-ooooh..." he moaned hotly. In a rapid move, he grabbed the blond and pulled him closer. His hands stopped ruffling Draco's soft hair and in turn began moving south. 

When Harry proceeded to take hold of his boyfriend's hard prick, Harry was in turn rewarded with an inarticulate scream. That warm, clever hand touching him in a place no-one had ever touched before... Both boys were already floating on a cloud. 

Harry vanished their bothersome pants with a fluid hand movement. "I love wandless magic. Don't you agree, Dray?" he whispered in his lover's ear, starting to gently nibble on it. 

'Yes,' Draco wanted to say, but at that moment, Harry increased the speed of his hand moving up and down. "YeeeeEEEES!"

Both boys' motions were becoming increasingly jerky, Harry still sitting halfway in Draco's lap. 

"Draco, I think I -"

"Harry, I -"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

That night, there were two young men at the Snake Pit who would sleep exceptionally well. 

* * *

_ Two Days Later _

"Well, have you succeeded in acquiring the money?" The judge earnestly looked at the pale faces in front of him. 

"No..." one of them answered. 

"Our parents have no money," the other continued shamefacedly. 

"And since the money is intended for Harry Potter, nobody wants to loan it to us," his brother finished. 

The judge gave a short not, then read his verdict. 

And thus Molly Weasley lost two more of her sons. 

In the hindmost bench of the courtroom, Harry Potter sat underneath his invisibility cloak and congratulated himself on arranging for the correct judge, whom Tonks had recommended to him. The man had asked no unnecessary questions. 

He was the last person to leave the room as he started back for home, eager to get back. He still had to read those books Hermione had left the other night, for him and Draco, on the living room table in their wing of the mansion.

  
  



	10. Snake Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be away for the Easter holidays, so there may not be another update until Monday night. I will post another oneshot or two now, if you get tired of waiting, maybe that will help tide you over. ^^ Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it, and a wonderful weekend to everyone else, as well! : )

_"All the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you […]. Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed."_

_\- Watership Down (1978 trick film)_

* * *

"Would you like tea, coffee, juice or water?"

Alastor Moody looked at the young wizard standing in front of him in irritation. "Potter, you know well that I never drink from anything but my own bottle."

"I do know. However, I have to ask you to please take some Veritaserum along with me. It's customary, here. You will have to take a leap of faith just this once."

Moody frowned; he did not like this one bit. He already had been highly unamused by taking a portkey to this place without advance knowledge of where he was going. And now he was supposed to accept a drink with uncertifiable contents? His instincts were screaming at him. "That is unacceptable."

Harry Potter sighed. "That is a pity, because then we have to obliviate you and send you back; and we will continue to be enemies." He raised his wand; the three figures wearing sunglasses in the room's other corners did likewise.

Moody's eyes narrowed down to slits. "Very well," he grumbled, "I'll take the stuff."

The Potter boy lowered his wand and permitted himself a tiny smile. "Very good. By the way, I will take it along with you, Alastor, so you can ascertain directly that I am not giving you anything more sinister than Veritaserum. So, tea, coffee, juice, or...?"

"Clear water, please."

"Of course, what else." Now the boy was really smiling. "Severus, could you...?"

One of the black-robed wizards wearing an odd snake-themed bandana turned to leave the room. He returned momentarily carrying a tray with two glasses of water and a little phial filled with a pale liquid.

"Pick a glass," the black-haired boy invited Moody, sitting down opposite him at the table. "If you'd be so kind as to distribute the Veritaserum to our two glasses...?"

Moody hesitantly reached for the phial and opened it. Did the Potter boy trust him this much? He was giving him the perfect opportunity to mix something into the drinks, for both himself and for the boy.

But Harry Potter just sat there, waiting with quiet patience for Moody to empty the phial into the glasses. Was his ease somehow connected to the phoenix mark that the young wizard had not only known about, but had inspected right upon Moody's arrival?

Moody had shown it to no-one since he had first noticed it on himself during the last Order meeting. Only Nymphadora Tonks had seen it, before he had hastily pulled down his sleeve to cover it. As a consequence, she had pulled him aside after the meeting and ported him to this place without another word. He had been completely blind-sided, having believed Tonks to be a clumsy, yet loyal supporter of Dumbledore. He had not expected her to simply deliver him to their enemies, just like that.

But here he was now, drinking Veritaserum with Harry Potter. Life was always full of surprises.

After both men had emptied their glasses, the 'new Dark Lord' sent his followers from the room. Now it was only the two of them.

"So tell my, Alastor, what do you think of Dumbledore?"

The boy's look had captured his natural eye, while the magical one continued to spin, making very sure that there really were no other people left in the room. Amongst other things, it also searched for his wand, which had been taken from him on arrival; he found it in the room next-door.

"Moody, could I please have your undivided attention? This is rather important."

His magical eye snapped forward to meet the younger man's reproachful gaze. "I decide for myself what is important to me. And right now, I find it more important to retrieve my wand and free myself than to let you question me." Oh, he had not meant to say that. Seemed that the serum was already in effect.

"Alastor, the room is sealed from the outside for the next hour. So you might as well give in and listen to me for a moment."

Bloody hell. Potter had also ingested the serum, so like it or not, he was forced to believe him. "Very well then, what do you want from me?" he asked gruffly.

Potter considered him earnestly. "Actually, I had expected that it is you who wants something from me when Tonks showed me your phoenix. Or is it only painted on?"

"I don't know where that thing came from. It is certainly none of my doing," he snapped angrily. It bothered him immensely that Potter seemed to know something about the mark on his arm, while he personally had not the slightest idea of its significance.

"Fair enough. Then let me enlighten you. You may not admit it to yourself, Alastor, but you seem to have turned from Dumbledore lately and to seriously have considered joining me."

"WHAT?" He jumped up and slammed his hands on the table. "Such unbounded...!"

The boy opposite him had calmly remained seated as though Moody's fit of rage did not impress him in the least.

"It is not my intention to groundlessly question your loyalty; however, that phoenix on your arm is my symbol. How else would it have ended up there if not by a change of your loyalties? You have taken Veritaserum; try telling me honestly that you consider me your enemy."

Moody felt that green-eyed gaze and uneasily shifted in his chair. Did he consider Harry Potter his enemy? Well of course, everyone in the Order did. And he would tell him so right now.

"Our enmity is an entirely real thing...of the past. It no longer exists." Huh. And exactly where had that come from? And why was that whippersnapper wearing such a self-satisfied smirk?

"So. When did I stop being the enemy?"

Again, Moody spoke without prior knowledge of what he was going to say. "At the last Order meeting. Sirius Black still has not returned. But no-one even seems to care. Everyone is just raving about the Weasley brood."

Now Moody was curious himself about what he would say next.

"Nor is anyone acting against the Death Eaters still at large, any more. However, I have heard rumours that the minister has been receiving letters from a group calling themselves the 'Black Snakes'; following each letter, a Death Eater has appeared in one of the holding cells. I got the impression that the Order of the Phoenix has lost track of what really matters while others are doing all the work. Just when I was asking myself who those Black Snakes might be and if they'd be willing to cooperate with us Aurors, I felt a stinging pain on my lower arm and noticed that strange black phoenix mark on it..."

He broke off when sudden awareness dawned. "The Black Snakes are yours?"

"Yes." The black-haired boy was once again considering him with those fathomless, serious green eyes and Moody was suddenly convinced that the person sitting opposite him was not an evil dark lord at all. A charismatic born leader, yes - but no sick psychopath.

"I think it is time that I correct some of your misconceptions," Harry Potter now began.

"Firstly: All the Weasleys, as well as Hermione Granger and Sirius Black are alive. I do not kill.

"Secondly: You currently find yourself in the middle of the initiation ritual for the Black Snakes, a loose community of people helping each other, apparently having me as their sole point in common, and hell-bent on supporting me in my every endeavour, which keeps surprising me. The black phoenix is my symbol, formed in everyone loyal to me by way of an ancient magic I have called upon in my anger inside St. Mungo's. Still I insist on this initial hour of conversation under Veritaserum to get to know each other, in part because the symbol might be faked, but also because I really want to know my followers and wish to also give them a chance to get to know me.

"- Thirdly: Until very recently, my main objective was to take revenge against all those who have hurt me; however, I have noticed in the meantime that I'm not really cut out for vengeance, and have started redefining the Snakes' goals. We have already agreed on political reforms, including but not limited to equal rights for werewolves, vampires and other magical beings, as well as a reformation of the school system to encourage tolerance and open-mindedness in the students. An overhaul of the magical judiciary appears sensible, as well. We are still debating what methods to use in reaching those goals. New input is always welcome."

The not-so-dark lord broke off to give his conversational partner time to digest all this. Then he continued. "This is one of the few moments where you can pin me down." He smiled restrainedly. "There are many things I will not openly talk about otherwise. If there is anything you want to ask me, now is the time."

Moody leaned back. This was not how he had imagined the leader of the Black Snakes. Not to mention the 'evil dark lord Harry Potter' who had the Order of the Phoenix running about like headless chickens these days. But he could not claim to dislike this discovery.

"Well then. What was the exact significance of your comment about the _Cruciatus_ in your graduation speech? Dumbledore was either unwilling or incapable of explaining."

Harry sighed. Trust Mad-Eye Moody to find and address his least favourite topics. This was not going to be a relaxing conversation...

Moody remained silent right after Harry had finished his explanation. He had been aware that Albus would do nearly anything to kill Voldemort; still he was shocked by this callousness. Working as an Auror, one got to see a lot of bad things; but for the man he had followed trustfully for many years to be revealed as such an insane sociopath without him ever having suspected it, dealt him a hard blow.

He silently considered the young man opposite him. The dark green eyes expectantly looked back at him from a concentrated face. Moody well remembered their last encounter. Harry had always seemed bashful and a little sad. During the recording of his graduation speech Dumbledore had shown them, the thin face had been twisted in anger; but now it looked nothing so much as calm. The sadness had not left entirely, but it was considerably weakened. The shyness also seemed to be in the process of yielding to a quiet confidence.

Moody called himself to order. The hour would surely end soon and he still had many questions. "What has torn you from your bitterness and your hatred for the world at large?"

Harry smiled. This was one question he did not mind answering.

* * *

Harry opened the door and left his office. Moody followed him closely.

"Tonks, would you be so kind as to show Moody around a little? He does not know his way around the place yet."

The witch hurried to join them, toppling over a chair in her haste and nearly falling down at Harry's feet had he not caught her at the last moment.

"Thanks, Harry," she grinned at him and gave Alastor a completely unembarrassed wave. "Glad to know you're staying."

He nodded at her, lost in thoughts, before wordlessly following her. He would obviously be turning the conversation over in his head for a while yet.

Suddenly, a short melody rang through the mansion. "Is that German?" Tonks asked, about to duck through a door.

"No, French," Severus answered her, who was standing with Harry next to the table.

"Oh bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed and apparated.

"What was that?" Moody asked, vexed.

Severus explained. "The signal announces the start of a language class. Harry has organized several language teachers for us. He wants us to, as he is fond of saying, 'grow beyond our horizons'. To this end, every member of his order is asked to learn at least one foreign language. Tonks is taking German, Harry is studying French and Russian. I am personally already fluent in Bulgarian and French, but have decided to add Italian, as well."

To say that Moody was impressed would be an understatement. "What else has Potter organized?"

Tonks pulled him along after her. "I'll tell you about it on the way. This here on the right, for example, is our duelling chamber where you can always fight a practice duel. Except from eight to ten in the mornings, which is when fencing lessons are offered here to anyone interested. We also have a meditation room..."

Soon the two Aurors were out of earshot.

Severus allowed himself a thin smile. With Mad-Eye Moody they had gained the support of an important wizard. He had Dumbledore's and Fudge's trust and knew people at all levels of the Ministry, even with the Unspeakables. His little Harry really had a talent for winning people over to his side.

* * *

_Later that day_

"Harry, there's yet another new member. Do you really want to interview every single one?"

"Yes, thank you, Zoltan. You know, by now some people have joined us whom I've never seen before; they've read the newspaper articles and been unconvinced, so following rumours they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron where Tom pointed them towards our contacts... And it's just not right for me to not even know the members of my own order, now is it? - So, who is it this time? Do I know them?"

The question was answered in the next second by a loud screech from the next room. "What are you doing here?! Bloody hag! Harry does not give any interviews, do you hear me?!"

"Hermione!" Harry was shocked. He ran into the next room where he got to witness a fairly curious scene. In an armchair by his desk sat none other than Rita Skeeter. She was trying with hands and feet to ward off a raging red ball of fur which was attacking her time after time, while Pansy Parkinson was valiantly trying to keep Hermione from the reporter. At present, her chances for winning the struggle did not look promising.

"Hermione, call Crookshanks off!" Harry hurriedly ordered her.

The brunette girl let off Pansy and turned towards him. "Harry, I'm glad you are here. Can you believe this? That Skeeter woman actually has the cheek to show up here and -"

"Hermione, Crookshanks," Harry softly admonished her.

"Oh. Ah yes. Crookshanks, let it go. Harry will take care of it," Hermione said slowly. The tomcat gave his victim one last slash of a clawed paw across the face before leaving the reporter with one jump and retreating into the arms of his mistress. Harry thought he heard Hermione whisper "Good Crookshanks, well done, you," but he wasn't entirely certain.

Hermione had been at her parents' place the previous week and brought the distraught Crookshanks back with her. She had told him that her parents had not believed the wizards who came to tell them that her daughter was presumed dead at the hands of a certain Harry Potter. From Hermione, they knew that Crookshanks had become her familiar over the years and that a familiar usually died when their wizard met their maker.

Crookshanks had been agitated, yet quite alive, thank you very much. Besides, Hermione had told them too much about Harry for them to believe the rumours of his insanity. Even a month earlier, when their daughter had informed them it was only right that he was taken to St. Mungo's, they'd had their doubts.

Harry had some firm suspicions where Hermione got her intelligence and her power of deduction from.

"Alright. Zoltan. Is she the new one?" he addressed the smaller boy.

Said boy felt visibly uneasy. "Well... yes. Blaise found her traipsing about Riddle Manor, looking for our order. She noticed him at once despite his disillusion charm, she said her phoenix was reacting to his the moment he entered the room. According to her, she has been following her phoenix's call for several days."

Harry was impressed. This mark was stronger than he had suspected. If the story were true. But this was Rita Skeeter, a walking nightmare, his personal visitation for several years. He decided to ask her directly.

"Rita Skeeter, what did you want at Riddle Manor?"

The reporter had by now recovered from Crookshanks's attack and cast longing glances towards her wand, which had of course been taken from her right away, out of the corner of one eye. With one sleeve of her green crocodile-skin jacket, she wiped a little blood from her cheek.

Harry waved his hand and the scratches vanished from her face. "Well?"

Rita, off-balance from the casual show of wandless magic, tried to regain her poise. "Hello Harry. I... humm, it's a bit hard to say. Well, I suppose it all comes down to me originally having become a reporter because I thought that's a job where I can influence things, make a difference. But the people with power in the wizarding world are not influenced by public opinion, they  _make_ the public opinion themselves. 

"I grew increasingly disappointed and started working off my frustration via acrimonious articles in which I dragged everything in the mud that Dumbledore or the Minister stood for. Of course Voldemort did not appeal as a viable alternative, but the talk of Harry Potter, prophesied saviour of the wizarding world, positively disgusted me.

"That is why I always put you down in my articles. I had no idea how little the lords of creation allowed you to feel how special you were... Ever since you turned your back on them, you have become interesting to me. Not as a target for my diatribes, but as a true alternative. I know you are not insane; otherwise, I surely would not have written so many times that you were. If it wasn't a lie, it would not have been half as exciting... What?" She suddenly became aware that everyone was staring at her with wide eyes.

Harry answered her. "It would seem I am not the only one who has been misjudged all this time."

"How am I supposed to interpret that?" she asked askance.

"Well, apparently you are not as superficial as we always assumed, either, Rita. Will you drink a butterbeer with me? Rita, Ms. Skeeter... mind if we stick to first names?

"- Zoltan, please be so good and bring us two glasses and a phial... And Hermione? Could you go and get Sirius? It's time we told him the facts of life. The Order of the Phoenix still know nothing of his whereabouts, maybe we could use that... Oh yes, one more thing: Those books you gave us..."

Hermione flushed. "Uh, those are just for... consolidating your knowledge. I am sure the internet has not sufficed to answer all of your questions, not yet."

Harry regarded her with mock-seriousness. "I admit I understand how some of these books could come in handy, it is certainly useful to know about Muggle methods of contraception, or about healthy posture. But, really... 'BDSM'? 'Eppy's Diary*'? 'Beastly pleasures'? - Is that last one because of my three animagus forms?"

Hermione would probably have vanished through the floor right about now had she been able to.

Rita, for her part, was watching the unfolding drama with a gaze that seemed to scream: "Give me quill and parchment already, this is the story of the century!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I borrowed the Dominatrix House Elf Eppy and her highly suspicious Hello Kitty diary from Fangalla Marie's [Azkaban Parody](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2205019/1/Harry-Potter-the-Azkaban-Parody) (Thank you!). It's a terrific answer to all those serious Azkaban fics. ;D If you haven't read it, you should (although it looks to have been abandoned some nine years ago).


	11. Hogwarts

_"Trust me."  
"I hate it when he says that!"_

_\- Oft-repeated dialogue from the Belgariad saga (David & Leigh Eddings)_

* * *

Arthur Weasley was confused. Dumbledore had appeared to today's Order meeting with singed fingers and a beet red, angry face. What could have so discountenanced the headmaster?

Of course, no one was particularly chipper these days. Arthur himself was only a shadow of the man he used to be since the news of Ron's death, followed closely by the incarceration of the twins and their as yet unsolved death in prison; Molly spent the large part of each day crying. She had clung desperately to Ginny before their daughter had disappeared, as well, and had finally called their two eldest sons home, needing their support and wanting to have them close.

Arthur was devastated. He never would have thought Harry Potter capable of this. He had not doubted Harry's sanity until the very end, always debating with some Order member or other if they had not been approaching this entire mess from the wrong angle.

But now three of his sons were dead, Ginny, Hermione and Sirius were officially missing and certainly it was only a matter of time until the next member of his family disappeared.

Dumbledore though had always kept his calm, today was the first time he obviously lost it.

"I received a letter from Harry," the headmaster began angrily. "I will read it to you:

  
  


_Hello Albus,_

_Sorry for not writing you sooner. There was just so much to do - hunting Death Eaters, taking revenge, studying dark magic, just the usual really, I'm sure you know how it is. But I have found a stray dog who is sorely testing my patience. I'd like to get rid of it before I accidentally murder it - after all, that is really not my style, is it?_

_You can have the mutt back if I get Arthur Weasley instead. Deal?_

_I know perfectly well that you no longer trust him anyway, surely the loss will not be so hard to bear. I have included a letter to Arthur that should make the decision easier for him - that is to say, if you leave him the choice at all; judging by what I have come to expect from you, you will make the decision over his head anyway. Still here it is, then, a little letter for Arthur Weasley. It is FOR HIS EYES ONLY so please do pass it on unopened._

_The exchange will take place tomorrow at noon in the old Riddle mansion. Be on time or the mutt might bite it._

_Sincerely not yours,  
Harry Potter, Dark Lord"_

  
  


Dumbledore angrily threw the letter down on the table. "The letter reached me at breakfast this morning. Hedwig threw it down the neck of my robes and I had to search for it for ten minutes. When I finally held it in my hands, this is what it said. What unbelievable impertinence!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt addressed the raving warlock. "Ummm... say, why are your fingers so black, Albus?"

The headmaster glared at him. "The letter Harry wrote to Arthur started smouldering when I tried to open it. Glowing bright red, it preached to me for ten minutes about the privacy of correspondence and that I'd sunken further in his esteem – spitting fire and singeing my hands as it did."

He angrily retrieved a tiny envelope from his pocket, measuring less than a hand span and currently looking like nothing but harmless yellow parchment.

"Here, this is for you, Arthur."

Mister Weasley awkwardly caught the letter the headmaster threw him. But before he could open it, his wife snatched it out of his hands. "Arthur, it's from Potter! He's going to kill you, too! You mustn't open it!!!"

She stared at him out of wide-open eyes brimming with tears. Lately, she often seemed closer to madness than to sanity.

The remaining members of the Order started to mumble and debate. Obviously, there was some disagreement about whether or not to extradite Arthur to Harry Potter. Any other day, Arthur would have been shocked to witness how many of them would consign him to certain death without a second thought, to get back the animagus who currently seemed the more reliable fighter. Arthur had too often voiced his doubts, he was also not that strong and only a shadow of himself at present besides.

And that was precisely why he now carefully pried the little piece of parchment from his wife's fingers and opened the letter. What did he have to lose?

 

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_Only you can read this letter, and for the next twenty-four hours, until after the exchange that is, neither will you be able to tell anyone about its contents. I have made sure of that._

_For what I am about to tell you, the Order must never know._

_I hold you in the highest esteem because you have always been able to look beyond the fence of your own backyard. You are interested in Muggles, you warned me about Sirius Black in my third year despite being expressly forbidden from doing so, and I know from reliable sources that you have been questioning Dumbledore's politics. For this reason, I have no wish to spread my vengeance to you. I want you to know that neither I nor my Snakes have killed anyone. Percy and Hermione have joined me; while I did have Ron and the twins kidnapped, they are still alive; Sirius is on my side now, as well, he is supposed to return to the Order as a spy._

_If you wish to know more about my intentions and about your sons' fate, please come and visit me tomorrow. It will be my pleasure._

_With the kindest regards,  
Harry Potter_

_P.S.: This is not a bad joke, I swear it on my dead parents' names._

_P.P.S.: I ask you to please not be obvious about it if you find the news conveyed in this letter pleasing._

 

Arthur weakly let his hand holding the letter drop into his lap. His eyes were swimming with unshed tears. If this were the truth...

"So what does the madman write?" Moody's gruff voice tore him from his thoughts.

"He wrote... he wrote... I cannot tell you. He hexed the paper," Arthur stuttered, wiping his eyes.

"You look pretty rough," Tonks said empathetically, laying a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I assume he was very tactless?"

Arthur blinked. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that for a moment there, a quizzical smile was playing around the pink-haired young woman's lips. He put it down to those tears, they really did blur the view.

Molly was tugging on his sleeve. "Love? Did he write anything about... about..." She broke off. It was clear what she wanted to know: Whether Harry had mentioned Ginny. The Weasleys' only daughter had gone out with Dumbledore's blessing to find Harry and set him straight. She imagined that only she, his true love, would be able to save him now.

The first Arthur and his wife heard of this plan was in a letter Ginny left for them. Mister Weasley had immediately run to Dumbledore to inform him of what Ginny had done - only to learn that Dumbledore was already in the know and had approved of Ginny's plan. That had been the moment Arthur had abandoned all hope.

But now its spark had been rekindled. What if he had not been mistaken about Harry? Then Ginny was not yet lost...

"No, he said nothing about Ginny. But he did mention -" He broke off. Harry really did cast some spell on the information, Arthur could not even report that the letter had said _something_ about his sons. However, after the aborted sentence, no one had any doubts who he meant.

"...Anyway, I will go. There is much to discuss," he said with a steady voice.

"Well, well, planning your personal revenge, Weasley?" Moody asked in a tone that seemed designed to taunt him. He was handing Arthur the perfect excuse for why he agreed to the exchange. Arthur was seriously beginning to wonder  just  whose side Moody was on. 

"Arthur, no!" Molly cried, overlapping with his "Well, that's one way of looking at it."

Then he added: "At any rate, I have a few things to talk to Harry Potter about. Not least of which is the fate of our daughter." He frowned deeply and his eyes easily conveyed his anger at Albus Dumbledore.  He was furious the man had just let his daughter go like that. Why had Harry written nothing about her in his letter?

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

* * *

There was a knock on the door.

Sirius laboriously raised his head to send the visitor away. "'m not home."

"Sirius, open up!" came the answer, with a decidedly worried undertone.

"Who...?"

"It's me, Hermione. Harry sent me."

Sirius was up in a flash. "WHAT?"

His body's circulation did not approve of the quick movement. Hermione, standing in front of the closed door, grew a little more worried still upon hearing a dull _Thump!_ from inside as though something heavy had fallen to the floor. Yet only a few seconds later, a completely wrecked, but alive, Sirius stood in front of her with wide eyes. "Did you say Harry?"

* * *

To say Sirius was nervous upon entering the Snake Pit for the second time was a bit like saying Professor Snape wasn't Neville's favourite teacher. In other words: Sirius was close to panicking.

What if Harry had only called him in order to take his life after all? Or, even worse, to tell him to leave and never come back - but never withdrawing his demand that Sirius refrain from harming himself?

This past week had been hell. Emotional distress had rendered him incapable of eating or sleeping.

Now, he was only hoping for... well, for what, really? Harry to forgive him, after all? That seemed hardly likely. He did betray Harry. He had failed to trust Harry and as a consequence had made his tough life a little harder still. He...

While Sirius kept mentally beating himself up, Hermione led him upstairs, heading straight for a specific door. It was right next to the conference room in which Sirius had watched Hermione's cruel encounter with Harry's childhood, a week ago.

With a smile she opened the door and sent Sirius in.

Inside, a few stools were grouped around a table. On the table, there were a couple of glasses and a pitcher of water, along with one bottle each of mint and raspberry syrup. A small basket filled with bread rolls and a cheese tray were also present.

Behind the table stood Harry. "Welcome, Sirius. Please, have a seat."

"…"

"Sirius? Are you unwell? You look a bit peaky."

"...Harry?" finally came the quiet and insecure address.

"That's my name. What's up?" Harry curiously looked at his godfather as though they'd never had the slightest disagreement.

For a few minutes, Sirius just stared at him, speechless.

But finally, Harry's lips curled up and he laughed out loud. "Sirius, I am sorry, I just had to tease you a little more. But that'll have to do for now, otherwise I might really drive you insane..."

Sirius's jaw was just about hanging down to his knees. His world had just been stood on its head. Why was Harry laughing? Why wasn't he reservedly calling him 'Mr. Black' any more? And why... how... for what reason was he actually here?

Harry turned serious again right away. "Sirius, I do not hate you. I was disappointed, hurt and incredibly angry at you when you stood against me with Molly Weasley. You were one of the few people I once thought I could trust implicitly.

"I will not lie to you: That trust is gone. I don't know if things can ever go back to the way they have been. But I have come to understand that I want to try. You see, Remus explained to me that my committal wasn't your idea. Is it true that it took Mrs. Weasley a very long time to convince you?"

"Erm, well yes, but I - I did agree with her in the end. And... I am so very sorry!"

Sirius had lowered his head, but Harry had the dim feeling that the man was about to burst into tears. "Sirius, you are still my godfather. My parents trusted you - surely they could not have been entirely wrong. Well, in any case, Remus wanted me to fetch you back. And lately, I've come to understand more and more that I just do not have sufficient motivation to keep up the anger towards people long after they have shown remorse..."

"You mean..." Hope welled up inside Sirius. "You mean you forgive me?"

"Now let's not be hasty. I still resent your deciding things over my head. But I am giving you a year on probation. I can always use another spy in the Order. I am no murderer, and I do not want your death on my conscience should I turn you away. You look like shit, Sirius."

Harry grinned.

"But you're only getting this chance because I've known and liked you for a while now, and am aware that you never think enough before you act. So you get this concession, different from certain other people - there are those I am not willing to give second and third chances to."

His face darkened before a renewed smile played around his lips. "We are about to have an important lady visitor. Care to help with the preparations?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about Sirius was written at the special request of JenDeluxe who did the beta work for the German version of this fic. I currently do not have a beta for English. Anyone willing to help me out, please let me know!


	12. Snake Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there will be animals... and bondage... Not _necessarily_ one with the other, though. :P
> 
> So. This chapter contains a bit of smut, of the type I wrote when just getting into things, years ago... Regardless, if you do not care to read anything smutty, just skip the part in the bedroom at the end of the fic. You won't miss anything relevant to the plot.

_"It's time to Duel!"_

_\- I'd rather not admit where I took this quote from, but omg, it just refuses to go away!!!_

* * *

"Percy?! _You_ got us out of Azkaban?" Fred's voice nearly broke from disbelief.

"Yes, me. And a few people from the organization I have joined. We all agree that Death Eaters are the only ones who might deserve Azkaban; but not you." Percy looked down on his two brothers who were slowly shaking off their fake rigor mortis. Draco, Zoltan and he had hatched a pretty brilliant plan. Harry had agreed to the thing and so, not three days after their conviction, the twins had been transferred first to the graveyard at Azkaban, then directly to the Snake Pit, headquarters of the Black Snakes, without having any idea themselves as to the how and why.

"Which organization?" George questioned suspiciously, while dazedly shaking his head to clear it from the leaden weariness still weighing down his limbs - an after-effect of the potion Severus had mixed into their food to fake their deaths. The Dementors still avoided Severus and so he had near-unlimited access to Azkaban.

Percy handed each of his brothers a glass of pumpkin juice and a bar of chocolate. "Here, a present from our leader to cheer you up after your tribulations. - His identity and the name of our organization are still a secret until you have taken a position towards out goals. It is an organization not toeing Dumbledore's or Fudge's party line, if you know what I mean."

Fred and George now both openly displayed their mistrust towards their older brother. From their parents, they knew Percy had intended to join Harry, but he would hardly have helped get them out of prison, now would he? Generally speaking, they were not opposed to an organization that differed from Dumbledore's Order and the Ministry, after all, the first had refused to help them while the latter had locked them up in Azkaban just like that.

The twins looked at each other. Percy's organization had saved them when they had been abandoned by all others - so why not?

"Shoot," they said in unison.

And Percy did. He told them about hunting Death Eaters, rights for underage wizards, language classes at school and equality for all magical beings. A reform of the judiciary, possibly involving a close inspection of Muggle laws, was also mentioned. If nothing else, this really got his brothers hooked.

Some two hours later, the twins were ready to join the mysterious organization and consign their inventions to its service.

"Good," Percy said with great satisfaction, for some unfathomable reason keeping his eyes glued to Fred's messily rolled-up sleeve. "Then we can go and present you to our leader. He will want to lead private interviews with each of you to test your motivation for joining; at that time, though, he will also gladly answer any questions you might have."

Fred and George shared another loaded glance. Single interviews? How fascinating.

"Your wands will be returned to you afterwards, I think Zoltan still has them."

"Zoltan? Wasn't he in Slytherin?" The mistrust made an immediate return.

"Of course. As were several more of our comrades-in-arms. If you wish to remain here, you will need to overcome those out-dated preconceptions."

Percy considered the twins earnestly. They were now standing in front of a set of great, arched double doors. "You now know what we are about. Please try to meet our leader open-minded, no matter what Mum and Dad may have indoctrinated you with. Agreed?" He waited for both of them to nod once more, then he opened one side of the door and they entered the room.

_"Tarantallegra!"_  
_"Rictus Sempra!"_  
_"Caedus!"_  
_"Laqcrimosa!"_  
_"Occulus seccus!"_  
_"Reductio!"_

The twins' eyes flew wide open at the sight of the brightly flickering lights of a baffling array of light and dark spells, joined with the sound of curses barked sharply from both sides of the room at intervals of less than a second. They had barged into the middle of a training duel.

 _"Spheare patrocinium!"_ A white flash suddenly flew straight at them. Before they had the time to react and evade, it had reached them. But instead of a curse, it turned out to be a shield. The black-haired wizard at the far end of the room had cast it to protect the spectators from ricochets.

The twins recognized neither of the duellers since both were madly jumping around in order to avoid each other's curses. They kept apparating suddenly, only to reappear in a different corner of the room, throw another curse, only to jump aside again right away when their adversary apparated as well and attacked them from behind. Shields flickered to life and died split-seconds later, curses rebounded or passed through empty air. Again and again, shields were broken with full force, the wizard behind them just so managing to escape to safety with a timely dive to the floor.

 _"Carnivorus!"_ A winged lizard with a wing span of a solid four meters launched itself at the blond wizard.

While ducking away from its talons, he already threw the next curse: _"Serpensortia!"_ A basilisk appeared above him and stared at the dinosaur, which promptly fell to the floor, dead, before fading into nothing.

But _"Finite Incantatem!"_ \- already the basilisk had faded, as well.

 _"Portes mundi!"_ The floor opened to devour the blond where he had just lain, but the wizard had already apparated again and was now raining various dark magic cutting and burning curses down on the other from his perch on a main beam.

The black-haired man was hit several times before abruptly piercing the other wizard's protection with a hasty, yet well-aimed _"Imperio!"_ _._

The lightning-bolt flurry of curses from the beam stopped at once and the blond wizard jumped down. He came to stand meekly in front of his adversary, who pulled a bunny from a top hat and pushed it in his victim's arms.

"Cute," he commented.

Up to this point, the twins had only seen the back of the dark-haired wizard's head, but now he stepped back to inspect his work and they had their first good look at the blond's face.

"Malfoy!" George vented his surprise.

Momentarily distracted by the shout, the black-haired wizard shifted his attention towards them. That was all Draco Malfoy needed to shake off the _Imperius_.

"I. Am. Not. CUTE!" The bunny evaporated. _"CRUCIO!"_

The black-haired man, not having expected the Unforgivable at all, hit the floor screaming while his wand went flying.

But the wizard only remained prostrate for a few seconds. Then they saw him pull himself together in an inhumane exertion of will, until his body stopped twitching.

"Harry...," Fred discovered.

The young wizard had clenched his teeth and was now getting to his feet with slow and controlled motions. Suddenly he raised both hands in a flowing gesture and hissed _"Aves!"_.

Draco Malfoy vanished. In his place, a highly agitated phoenix was fluttering above the floor.

Harry exhaled with relief. Then he called his wand back into his hand and zeroed in on the bird flapping its wings in mounting panic and trying desperately to get away.

But there was no escape.

"You know bloody well how much I hate that curse!" Harry hissed.

Fred and George felt icy shivers run down their spines at his tone. They'd never seen Harry this furious.

"And why, of all the birds you could have picked, did you have to transform into a phoenix? Do you have a death wish? You know how much I despise those traitorous things..."

A rope slipped around the bird's neck soundlessly and started to tighten.

Percy cleared his throat. "Harry, it's a black phoenix. And it is you who gave him this form - I am sure he would prefer not to be a phoenix."

Fred and George admired their brother for his interference. They would never have expected such bravery out of him. The wizard in front of them looked utterly mad and fairly radiating the lust to kill. Addressing him at this time seemed fairly suicidal. Yet their brother did not give an inch, instead levelly meeting the piercing gaze from dark green eyes.

"This is still Draco," he said calmly.

And the miracle happened. Harry lowered his wand and murmured something unintelligible. Draco Malfoy fell to the floor, gasping for breath, pulled the noose from his throat and looked at Harry with tiny, bloodshot eyes.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked Harry in a subdued voice.

Harry's look was calm once more, yet still unapproachable. "You have no idea," he answered without any inflection. "I only stopped because we have visitors. But you will still pay for this. _Dearly._ "

The twins looked on dumbfounded as the proud Malfoy lowered his head, crestfallen, with a mumbled "Understood."

Harry turned towards the three Weasleys and his eyes became a tiny shade warmer. "Fred, George, good to see you. I am sorry you had to witness this. Our duels rarely degenerate to this point, one in three times at most..."

The twins looked at the countless wounds dotting Harry's torso, oozing blood, then at the pile of misery behind him formerly known as Draco Malfoy, the prince of Slytherin. "You do this regularly?" Complete disbelief.

"Weeee-ell... You know I had originally intended to take vengeance on everyone and everything. But somehow that never goes quite the way I want it to, so I have to take out my frustrations in other ways. Draco, Severus and Luna are always willing to lend a hand. That keeps me fit..."

"...and us, too," Draco Malfoy amended who had finally managed to get himself off the floor and now laid a loving arm around Harry's shoulders.

The twins noticed the gesture and were completely thrown for a loop. Didn't Harry try to strangle Draco to death a minute ago? Didn't that same man curse him with _Cruciatus_ just then? How could they now sink into such an intimate hug?

"Percy," Harry now said, "I fear Draco and I first have to settle the outcome of this fight before I can give your brothers my undivided attention. Have Dobby bring you a cup of tee or something, and explain to them what happened to the rest of your family, alright?

"I'll be back in an hour or two. Fred, George, I hope I didn't scare you off just now. Let me already say sorry for the stunt I pulled with that contract, I guess I was somewhat angry with you. But I'd be overjoyed if you decided to join us. Well, see you later.

"Draco -" He grabbed the blond and dragged him towards the door. _"- We have unfinished business."_

"Harry, you're watching too much Muggle telly," they heard Draco's lament before the door slammed shut behind the couple.

"Eeerm..." Percy sheepishly turned back to his brothers. "Okay... how about we head down to the kitchen? Winky baked biscuits yesterday, there might be some left.."

The twins followed him without a comment. They were still in shock from what they had just witnessed. The way Draco and Harry had handled the Unforgivables and each other strongly implied that heavy physical damage, black magic and being ambushed were par for the course for them. But then, on close consideration Harry's life so far had consisted of an overwhelming number of wounds, betrayals, and life-threatening situations.

And they did not even want to imagine what family life with the Malfoys may have been like, with Death Eaters freely coming and going. Somehow, the twins could not shake the uncomfortable suspicion that Harry Potter did not have as little reason to curse everyone as their mother would have them believe. Maybe he really was mad, but if so, he did have ample reason.

* * *

_In Harry and Draco's shared bedroom_

"Draco, I got the impression you do not really know your own strength."

Harry had dumped Draco on the bed and was threateningly looming over him now. "If I wasn't so dulled by Dumbledore's little torture sessions, it is likely I would have lost consciousness after ten seconds on the outside."

"WHAT?" Saying that Draco was shocked would be like saying that Dumbledore wasn't precisely young any more - a truly irresponsible understatement.

"That is impossible! I have used the _Cruciatus_ before, it was never that strong..."

"That was before. You are an adult now, Draco, and you have trained a lot. You cannot rely on all your spells functioning just like they used to."

Draco's eyes looked glassy. "I did not mean to do that, Harry. Oh fuck it, I am sorry."

Harry turned to Draco, his face completely expressionless. Draco did not know where he stood - until an unholy grin spread over Harry's face. "Not nearly sorry enough." He opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet and withdrew one of Hermione's books.

Draco gulped.

Slowly, he retreated towards the headboard while Harry leaned in a little more, wearing a thin smile.

Harry mumbled something. Draco's clothes vanished. A shiver ran across his so abruptly exposed skin.

Another mumble. Draco's hands were dragged up above his head as though tied with invisible ropes and he was unable to move them back down. His feet suffered a similar fate.

Now cursed into immobility, Draco nervously watched Harry pacing the room, his nose glued to one of the books. Draco could not quite make out the details, but it looked as though Harry was searching for something.

Draco was a little disturbed by the fact that Harry had already worked through Hermione's recommendations to the point where he could find the correct page by simply flipping through at a fast pace. What was more, he had never even heard of the spells Harry had just used on him.

Finally, a satisfied "Aha!" was heard and Harry briskly turned back towards Draco. His green eyes focused on Draco with the intent of a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.

Draco gulped again.

Rather disquieted, he watched Harry put the book aside for good after one last glance and instead take up his wand.

_"Prudentia."_

Draco could not have said what was different, but he was intuitively convinced the spell had done something to him that he was not going to like. While he was still racking his brains to find out what Harry had done, he suddenly felt a hot, raw tongue on his chest.

A black wolf was sitting beside him and pleasurably licking him.

"Harry...?"

The wolf growled deeply and continued its efforts.

Draco threw a highly alarmed glance at the book lying on the bedside cabinet with its innocent cover ('Mimbulus Mimbletonia - Advanced Care'), pretending to be harmless. Could this be the 'Beastly Pleasures'?

What in Merlin's name did Harry intend to do to him?!

The wolf reacted to Draco's involuntary shudder by placing both front paws on the blond's chest and proceeding to lick his throat.

Even though Draco knew that this was his boyfriend - it was still somehow a deeply disturbing experience to have a grown wolf leaning on his chest, licking his throat, and in doing so grazing the sensible skin of his throat from time to time with those gleaming, sharp teeth.

Draco closed his eyes.

A Malfoy was always in control. A Malfoy did not show weakness. A Malfoy was never afraid. A Malfoy gave orders, he did not beg. A Malfoy...

"Harry...?"

Even to his own ears it sounded bloody pathetic.

The wolf raised its head. Even though it was hard to tell with a beast of prey, Draco had the surreal impression that the animal was baring its teeth with a distinctly malicious grin.

In a gesture of submission passed down through the ages, he closed his eyes.

Then the wolf's hot breath was gone from his face, the paws on his chest moved, leaving little red dots on his skin where the claws had sunk in.

Could wolves speak? Or had Harry transformed back? Draco had no way to find out, for when upon hearing the soft words of another spell he tried to open his eyes, he realized that it was impossible.

Harry had magically sealed them.

 _Disturbed_ was putting it mildly; by now, Draco was definitely verging on panicked.

He had seen Harry in a rage now and then, but usually the Snake Lord's anger was directed at other people these days. Draco had been feeling pretty safe. He no longer did, now.

His entire body was tense, anticipating Harry's next move. When something cold suddenly touched his belly, he flinched in shock. However, the invisible bonds trapping his arms and legs prevented any further movement, and Draco tried to calm down while something cold and lengthy slowly moved across his belly.

It was very smooth, but something like a pattern seemed to ripple over its entire surface. The smooth thing was moving in an oddly haphazard way that still managed to appear deliberate. It slithered across Draco's naked lower body, drawing a complete circle around his crotch before coming to a stop.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Draco felt _something_ fluttering against his prick. He groaned out his surprise and felt himself getting hard.

The fluttering snake tongue - for that was precisely what was touching him, as Draco now realized - moved little by little across his entire, increasingly hard length.

A remote area of his brain remembered that Harry's teeth were even pointier in his snake form than the wolf's, and not to forget: poisoned, but the feelings the snake tongue flicking back and forth along his member sent racing through his body were making it increasingly hard to think. Soon, even the memory that Harry intended to _punish_ him had vanished from his mind.

But then the wonderful tongue was gone all of a sudden. Draco whimpered. His Malfoy pride was pretty far removed from him at present, as were most other coherent thoughts. The only thing that mattered right here and now was for that heavenly tongue to return and keep focusing on him.

His erection was pulsing, it seemed to have soaked up all the blood in his body.

It was a tad bit painful.

A soft breeze hit his boldly raised organ and made Draco shiver. His erection was not daunted in the least by the sudden cold, though. Nor was Draco's suddenly returned unease upon becoming aware once more of his bound limbs and unmoving eyelids.

"What do you think," Harry's quiet voice suddenly spoke in his ear.

Draco had not noticed the weight moving from his lower body. But the snake was obviously no longer in place, since Harry was now apparently knelt over him, his head flush against Draco's right ear.

"What do you think: If I was furious beyond measure, would I go out of my way to reward the person responsible?"

Draco froze.

"That would not be very clever of me, now would it?" Harry continued with that quiet voice that was both seductive and dangerous.

A loud groan escaped Draco.

Harry's voice was vibrating with soft laughter when he asked: "Have you found out yet what my latest spell can do?"

Draco was writhing underneath his boyfriend and impatiently shook his head. His resilient erection was starting to be really painful. With relief, Draco noticed Harry getting up. Whatever his boyfriend planned to do to him, it had to be better than no distraction at all.

It was with utter dread, then, that he heard Harry's steps moving away from the bed.

The soft rattling of the door falling shut appeared to him as loud as the riders of the apocalypse.

…

"...Harry?"

…

"Harry!"

…

"Harry!!! Please don't leave me here like this. HARRYYYYYY!!!!!!!!"

Soft laughter ripped Draco from his panic attack.

_Harry's still here. Thank Merlin!_

"Well, have you clued in yet what that spell does?" Harry asked, sounding highly amused.

Draco slowly recovered from the shock and tried rationally going over the past ten, twenty minutes. His painfully pulsating manhood made that anything but easy, though.

Finally, realization dawned.

"It prevents it from... from stopping on its own?"

His lover's dark laugh gave him the certainty that that still wasn't all even before Harry came back towards the bed on light feet. "Oh, my upstanding dragon, there is so much more still..."

Disconnected thoughts, fears, hopes and suspicions were dancing around wildly in Draco's head. Yet before he could solve the riddle of what Harry might be alluding to, his thoughts once more sounded the retreat.

Harry was once again attending to his rock-hard member. And this time it was warm, human lips that closed demandingly around his painful manhood.

Draco was in heaven. He steadily approached his deliverance. When Harry started gently sucking, he lost all restraint and started uttering inarticulate sounds. Draco's entire body reacted to Harry's manipulations and was writhing in its bonds just like the snake that had previously coiled on his lower body.

The moment of his completion drew ever nearer... and nearer...

Draco's moaning stopped abruptly when it dawned on him that it should have long since been over. Then he moaned all the louder, this time in frustration.

He was unable to come. Harry's curse forbid him.

Harry teasingly dragged his teeth down Draco's length. Draco groaned. "Harry, you are cruel!!!"

Draco could not see Harry's smirk, but he heard his quiet laughter. "Tell me, dragon, will you ever cast another curse at me without knowing exactly how much damage it will wreak?"

"Never," Draco groaned.

The hot mouth once more descended on his member. It was heaven and hell at once. Draco's loins wanted to explode under the onslaught of emotions, yet something kept them trapped. Thus he was caught in a strange balance between heavenly arousal and painful frustration.

"Harry, please...! I had no idea... and I really didn't mean to - AH!"

Harry chuckled darkly once again before rubbing over Draco's nipple a second time.

Draco pinched his closed eyelids shut even more tightly. His breath came it quick pants, his entire body twitching. The taut, painfully tense organ between his legs was sending electric shocks down to his toes. Harry kept working on it with devilish devotion.

There was no more time, no space, no up nor down. Everything became meaningless for Draco while Harry kept relentlessly playing on his overstimulated nerves.

And then the barrier was gone.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Draco's suddenly free hands clutched the sheets in a death grip, his legs twitching, as he came more violently than he ever had. Colourful circles were dancing before his eyes. He was panting harshly.

Slowly, very slowly, he came back to himself. He pried open his eyes .

And looked up into sparkling green ones.

Harry was bent over him and gently pressed his lips to Draco's. With a deep sigh, Draco opened his mouth and let Harry in. Harry tasted good, but there was something Draco had never tasted before...

Harry's mouth smoothly separated from Draco's and the black-haired man pulled back his head a little.

"You... you swallowed it?" Draco asked in amazement.

Harry's answer was a wicked smile.

"You are incredible," Draco whispered reverentially. He had not expected this from his innocent Harry...

Suddenly, the smug smile left Harry's face. "Was it any good?" he asked hesitantly.

"GOOD?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Harry flinched at Draco's loud exclamation like a whipped puppy. At Draco's next words, however, he straightened back up. "Good does not even begin to describe it!!! This was the most intense... the most heavenly... the... I don't have words for it! It was more than just good!!!"

Slowly, the grin crept back onto Harry's face. "So you're not mad at me?"

Draco's search for adequate words came to an abrupt stop and he fixated on Harry with a sharp look. "What you did there was pretty nasty."

Immediately, Harry looked down-trodden once more.

"But the end was worth it."

Draco pulled Harry into a long, tender kiss. Then they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the "Spheare patrocinium" - from KimRays [Der Herr der Zeit](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1966134/1/Der-Herr-der-Zeit), once again. Really was smitten with that fanfic when I wrote this. Any other spells you don't recognize are my own, I think.


	13. Snake Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely my personal favourite chapter of this fic. Contains some mildly scandalous scenes. Possibly more than mildly... Well, but besides Harry and Draco, everyone is just pretending... Um, maybe not Severus and Kandis, that is... But other than them... Oh, and then there's... er... *blushes and sneaks off*

_ "All you need is love!"  
"Love is just a game." _

_ \- Quote dialogue from the film Moulin Rouge _

* * *

"And here we are." The stranger led Ginny down on a path toward a beautiful, unbelievably large brick mansion. She thought she could hear the sea roaring in the distance. 

So this was where she would see Harry again.

She raised her head determinedly, trying to stand tall and look imposing. "Please take me to your Lord."

The man with the sunglasses nodded. She had finally found him in the Leaky Cauldron after discarding an abundance of wrong leads. A member of the "Order of the Black Snakes", Harry's followers. She had been surprised to learn that the Black Snakes belonged to Harry, for at home, during the past few days, her father had started praising this secret organisation that kept delivering captured Death Eaters to the Minster. Did the Order of the Phoenix know about this?

She had briefly considered sending an owl to Dumbledore, but the stranger had taken the decision from her when he grabbed her and side-along apparated her to this lonely mansion. Now she followed him through a lovely grand garden to the mansion's main entrance.

_ Harry, I'm coming! _

* * *

"Is everyone ready?" Harry asked through his pendant. Each of his Snakes had a piece of jewellery in the shape of a snake that was connected to his. It functioned pretty much like a Muggle mobile, only powered by magic, so would not fail in environments like Hogwarts or the Ministry. 

"Yes!", "Yeah", "Mhm", "Yup", "Yessir", and "Yo", twenty different voices were now answering him in a loud chorus. 

"Are you sure everyone picked a different page from 'Eppy's Diary'*?" he asked anxiously. 

"Do you want to come over here and check?" a cheeky voice replied. That was Tonks. 

"Hey, when you toss up my eyeball like that, I can look down your shirt!" Moody's delighted voice was suddenly audible. 

"Uuuuh... no thanks." Harry would rather not know which scene these two were going to present. 

"By the way, where did you find this magnificent guidebook for every circumstance?" That was Fred. 

"Yes, do tell, Harry!" Pansy chimed in. With her and Millicent, Harry also preferred not to give closer thought to the position they would find themselves in a few minutes later.

"Dreadfully sorry, but the finder prefers to remain anonymous. She cannot risk her reputation as a virtuous Gryffindor..."

"Harry!" Hermione's irate voice could clearly be heard through all the pieces of jewellery.

"Stay cool, dearest, lest your performance as receptionist suffer," Draco recommended drily. The connection echoed with the laughter of all the Snakes who had volunteered for 'Mission _Scare Ginny_ _'_.

"And always remember, mates: She is utterly convinced that her love will bring me back on the 'right path'. So let's show her that this house is not lacking in love!

"Now you'd better switch off your snake rings, bracelets, earrings, pendants and whatnot, for I think some of the performances would shock more than just Ginny, and we'll all want to be on top of our game tomorrow, right?"

With these words, Harry ended his pendant's connection and turned to Draco. "Let the others do as they like, but personally, I think this is too good an opportunity to waste with play-acting. Have you already decided on one of the left-over pages?"

"I have not; but I thought maybe now was a good time to pay you back for a certain favour..."

* * *

Ginny stepped into the mansion's grand entrance hall. 

"Ginny! How lovely to see you!" Ginny's eyes went wide as saucers. Down the large, spiralling staircase, Hermione Granger was coming to meet her. But somehow, she looked... changed.

"Hermione! I though you're dead!" She stared at the brunette girl in disbelief, noticing that she wore what looked like some type of foreign school uniform. Albeit the chequered skirt only reached down to just below her buttocks; this was made up for by wide, white stockings that came up far beyond her knees and could impossibly hold up on their own. Ginny wondered if they had been glued on. 

"Dead, me? Balderdash! Who's spreading such nasty rumours?" The oddly changed Hermione Granger gracefully leant down to press a kiss to Ginny's cheek in greeting. This granted Ginny a first-class look down Hermione's blouse, and what she saw there really puzzled her. When had Hermione started wearing black lace bras? And smelling of violets?

"Ah, Luna love, thank you for bringing her!" Hermione now called out with obvious pleasure. 

Ginny turned with a start. The 'man' behind her took off the sunglasses and bestowed a dreamy smile upon Hermione. "Anything for you, dearest," Luna answered. She approached Hermione as though dancing through a dream - and without advance warning drew her into a deep, sensual kiss.

Ginny gaped like a fish out of water. "Hermione...?" she asked with a small voice. "Luna...?"

The girls took quite a while to let go of each other. "Ah, sorry, deary, we did not mean to be so inhospitable. But we have not seen each other for nearly an entire day, and the longing is simply _killing_ us! I am sure you will excuse us?"

"Erm, sure..." Ginny mumbled in confusion. 

"Great! Ah right, Harry mentioned a while ago that your love would surely lead you to his door sooner or later. You see, just like you, everyone in this house has faith in the principle that love is the highest good and must not be repressed in any way, shape or form. This is why we believe that all varieties of love are permissible if two people really love each other..."

"And what about Ron?" Ginny asked agitatedly. 

"Oh, him...  You know, deary, he has not contacted me for so long, I am beginning to think he does not truly like me. Luna however... she really loves me, you know?" Once more, she gave the dreamy girl a look that was no less googly-eyed. 

" Could it possible be because Harry  _killed him_ ?!" Ginny shouted out her accusation. 

"Killed him, you say?" Luna asked with apparent interest. "What funny ideas you have! Harry is much too busy to kill anyone!"

"Busy doing what?" Ginny asked suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed down to slits. 

"Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. First he has set up this oasis of love for our use, then he made sure the right people learned of it, and finally... Say, Hermione, when has he last left his room?"

Ginny never knew what Hermione might have answered, for at that moment they heard a loud "MAKE WAY!"

She just so managed to jump aside before  a winged  entity on a broom rushed past her. She looked after it. It seemed to be a hunk of a boy wearing a golden tanga, with a cute little pair of golden wings attached to his back...

He looked back briefly as though worried about pursuers, and she recognized - 

"Oliver?!"

Another yell sounded behind her. "GET THE SNITCH!"

She pressed closer against the wall when two more figures on brooms zoomed past. 

"Was that...?"

"Fred and George," Hermione answered. 

And Luna added: "Those three really made Quidditch their life. They play in  _all_ life situations, if you know what I mean."

"This is where we take our leave, deary. Harry is somewhere upstairs, just try  a few doors , I am sure someone will be able to point you in the right direction.  Certainly no-one will mind. And Harry will be so happy about your lovely visit! Well, see you around..."

A  bewildered Ginny followed the two girls with her eyes as they walked down the hall and finally turned into a room on the right hand side. 

_ Very well. Focus. Harry. Upper floor. Let's go.  _

Ginny bravely tracked upstairs. There she stopped and looked around. A hallway with easily two dozen very similar doors lay ahead of her. Around a corner, the hallway seemed to go on even further. How was she supposed to find Harry? It looked as though she'd have to follow Hermione's advice and simply knock on one of the doors. 

She chose the only truly striking door on the entire hallway, an arching double wing door. She knocked carefully. When no answer sounded, she hesitantly opened the right wing, entered - and froze. 

The room held Blaise Zabini and another boy, also a former Slytherin if she wasn't mistaken. Both were holding rapiers and their clothes hung in tatters. Apparently they had slashed apart each other's garments in the heat of the fight. However, not a single drop of blood was visible, nearly as if both of them had specifically _aimed_ for the clothes...

Right when she entered, Blaise placed the crucial blow and slit the other boy's pants, which were even now taking their leave. 

"Oh. Sweet. Merlin." Ginny closed her eyes, blindly groped for the door handle and backed out of the room. 

Back in the hall, she leant against the door she had closed hurriedly behind her and tried to calm down. What kind of training was that?! She really needed to get Harry out of this place. 

Pulling herself together, she slowly trekked further down the hall. Harry's office, him being the leader, surely must be placed in a prominent position. Maybe at the very end of the hall?

Slowly, she opened that door and entered. 

It would be a long time before she forgot the sight she walked in on. Sat upon a heavy, old-fashioned bureau was Kandis of the Weird Sisters, singing one of her songs. She was clad in two pieces of very sexy nearly-nothing and, for some unfathomable reason, held a whip in one hand. In front of her, a man in very revealing patent leather clothing was moving to the rhythm of her song. He was of lean built and had greasy black hair...

"Eeeeek! Professor Snape?" Ginny reeled back. 

"Weasley. What are you doing here?" The former potions professor briefly stopped dancing and eyed her curiously. "Do you wish to take dancing lessons?"

Ginny fled screaming.

Before she chose her next door, she first leaned against it, listening closely for a long time. When neither song nor the swishing of daggers could be heard, she knocked softly. 

"Come in," two cheerful voices greeted her. _Finally someone normal_ , she thought with relief and entered. 

The room was oblong and only lit by a number of candles, so her eyes needed some time to adjust. A man appeared to be standing a the other end, with something moving next to his feet on the floor. Strange; hadn't she heard two voices? Uncertainly, she walked towards the upright figure. 

"Erm, excuse me, I am looking for Harry Potter..."

"But dear Ginny, why so formal?" Remus Lupin turned to face her. But just when she wanted to heave a relieved sigh, she noticed his  getup. His lower half was c lad in a pair of ragged jeans, but his upper body - nothing.  What was more , in his hand he held something that looked suspiciously like a torture device. What was the word,  a  cat o' nine tails? Ginny shuddered. 

" Professor Lupin, could you please tell me..." She broke off when she heard a thin whine. Horrified, she realized that the thing at Lupin's feet was a black dog, bleeding from a multitude of wounds. "Lupin! What have you done to Sirius?"

"Nothing he didn't want me to, Ginny." As though to call him out on his lie, the dog gave another pitiful whine. 

"Lupin! Stop at once with this - er - animal cruelty," Ginny barked angrily and stepped protectively in front of the dog. 

Suddenly she heard a voice from behind her back. "Ginevra Weasley, you're such a killjoy!" She turned around. Behind her stood Sirius Black, wearing nothing but his skin and a seriously pissed-off expression. Then his eyes moved over to Lupin and his features softened. "Remus, can we continue now? Please?" he whined.

"This is... hideous. Abnormal. Sick..." Ginny retreated from the two men. 

Remus Lupin gave her an impudent smirk. "Yeah, insult me, hit me, call me animal names, baby..."

Yet another door slammed loudly shut within the noble mansion on the Breton coast. Left behind were a werewolf crying tears and a lively black dog luxuriously licking the jam out of its fur. 

* * *

Ginny was finished. After countless doors, each of them revealing a new  horror , she had finally gotten a hint of Harry's whereabouts. Now she was standing in front of a prima ballerina's portrait and trying to gather her courage before finally speaking the password. 

"Make love not war."

The lady in the rosy tutu bowed gracefully and swung aside. Behind the picture lay a cozy little antechamber leading to another door. She went ahead and opened it. 

"Yes! More! You are wonderful, Dray!!!"

Was that Harry's voice? Like a puppet on a string, Ginny mechanically padded over to the great bed from which the scream had originated. On it, she saw...

Ginny gagged.

On the bed lay her Harry, his arms and legs tied up. A blonde young man was kneeling above him whose mouth appeared eagerly involved in an activity between Harry's thighs. 

"Oh yes! Like that!" Harry panted and blissfully closed his eyes. Upon opening them again, he noticed the shocked girl standing next to his bed. 

"Oh, hi Ginny," he gasped, somewhat out of breath. Good of you to drop by. Want to move in with us?"

That was it. Ginny took off at a dead run, screaming as she  went . She was never again seen in France.

About two weeks later, Mrs. Weasley received a letter from the sisters of Avalon, asking for her consent to Ginevra Weasley's entry into the chaste order of the sacred virgins  of the isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I believe I said it before, but will gladly give credit again: Eppy the House Elf and her Hello Kitty diary full of smut hail from Fangalla Marie (FFN)'s terrific [Azkaban Parody.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2205019/1/Harry-Potter-the-Azkaban-Parody)  
> ...The idea to put a Japanese school uniform, manga style, on Hermione, was born while watching [Pota Hari](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9tqyxnx73E) by chibichibixxx, a ten minute illustrated song on the topic of "What if Harry Potter were a manga?" (Sadly, I don't think that's ever been translated into English, though.)


	14. Riddle Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far! I greatly appreciate it!!! :D

_"To beguile the time, look like the time,_   
_Bear welcome in your hand, your tongue;_   
_Look like the innocent flower_   
_But be the serpent under't."_

_\- Lady Macbeth in Macbeth (Shakespeare)_

* * *

"Do you think they've changed their minds?"

The delegation of the Order of the Phoenix sent to receive Sirius was standing around nervously in the great foyer of Riddle Manor, waiting for Harry's emissaries and Sirius. It was five minutes past noon and still no sign of them.

The plan was, of course, to get Sirius back without loosing Arthur Weasley, but if that turned out to be impossible, an agreement had been reached to trade in Arthur Weasley. Everyone but Molly Weasley had voted in favour. Arthur himself had abstained.

"Oh!" Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly called out, "the shield we placed has disappeared. It is now possible to apparate not only into, but also out of this place."

"Plan B, then," Arthur Weasley mumbled. "Like that wasn't clear from the start..."

Seconds later, five people came through a door at the far end of the foyer.

First to enter was Harry Potter himself. Since his breakout from St. Mungos, no member of the Order of the Phoenix had seen him, and his appearance instantly silenced all talk between those present. All eyes were trained on the young, black-haired wizard who stepped into the foyer with such obvious serenity as though he had been invited to tea rather than a hostage exchange with his enemies who, as far as he knew, were after his life and freedom.

Over his shoulder, he was talking back to a blond young man clad in fairly unsual garments: A loose black robe fell down to his knees, sunglasses hid his eyes and on his forehead, a green bandana displayed the image of a black cobra. His right hand, adorned by a ring in the shape of a snake biting its own tail, held his wand; his left, the end of a rope that trailed off through the open door.

A few steps behind Draco Malfoy - no matter how he disguised himself, his hair immediately gave him away - the other end of the rope appeared. It lay around the neck of a man with long, dark hair, who kept his gaze lowered to his hands, tied with Muggle hand-cuffs, while following the former Slytherin at a sluggish pace.

Arthur Weasley gasped. Sirius Black looked terrible. He was starved like he had been in the days following his time in Azkaban, his clothes looked as though he'd worn them day and night for a week, and when he finally raised his head at a painfully slow pace, heavy, dark rings were visible underneath his bloodshot eyes. No-one had any doubts that this past week had been a true nightmare for him.

Arthur gulped. What had Harry done to his godfather? - Had he, himself, really volunteered to go to this ruthless dark lord? He took an unconscious step back - and felt Tonks softly taking his arm. She gave him an encouraging smile and whispered, softly enough that nobody but him heard it: "Things aren't always what they appear. You do know this, don't you?"

The bewildered man wanted to ask the pink-haired Auror what she meant by this, but she gently shook her head and squeezed his hand. When she withdrew it again, Arthur's hand held a hard little item. It felt very akin to one of his beloved Muggle plugs...

Behind Sirius, two more black-robed wizards with sunglasses and strange scarves around their heads had appeared. Since they had no treacherous Malfoy-blonde hair to give them away, the ten members of the Order were left to speculate. They did not have much time to do so, however, for the five people had barely arrived in the centre of the foyer when Harry began speaking.

"Mr. Weasley! How wonderful that you have come! I had feared you might refuse my polite invitation." For the ears of their audience, his words must ring with sheer mockery. "But as you did come, I do not wish to put your patience to the test much longer. If you would be so good as to join us...?"

Arthur made as if to walk up to him when an arm across his chest stopped him. Said arm belonged to Minerva McGonagall. The witch coolly examined Harry and shouted: "First, release your prisoner, Mister Potter. Then you can have Arthur."

Harry frowned. "Mistrust really is your big forte, huh? Very well, here's your dog." He let go of the rope he had put around the animagus's neck, and gave his back a shove that made him stumble towards the Hogwarts professor.

None of the Order members saw the brief wavering of his gaze when Sirius tripped and nearly fell. _That week without a clue as to what was going on really ate at him. Maybe I'm_ _truly_ _as important to_ _hi_ _m as he said?_

Sirius had barely reached the group when one of their number pulled a portkey out of his pocket. "Didn't expect that, Potter, did you?" an Auror asked coldly before the entire group vanished.

Harry smiled. Of course he did.

Followed by Draco, Blaise and Severus, he hurried back to the Snake Pit, where Mr. Weasley was already waiting impatiently for him. The portkey Tonks gave him had been automatically activated the moment it touched the other portkey.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Order made some interesting faces when they all arrived back at Grimmauld Place - all, that is, except for Mr. Weasley.

* * *

_Snake Pit, Conference Room_

"Hi Dad!"

Arthur Weasley blinked. In front of him sat Fred and George. Not only did they look healthy and very much alive, but their faces also wore wide twin grins as though they'd just distributed a round of canary creams at the Ministry.

Arthur himself was seated on a comfortable seat cushion in a spacious, nicely carpeted room with bookshelves lining the walls. Sunlight was streaming through the open windows and he heard some birds sing.

"Hello Mister Weasley! Would you like some tea? Or a butterbeer?"

Arthur turned to look at the speaker and met Hermione Granger's merry eyes. "You're alive... all of you..." It was like a dream.

He was just about to ask if Ron and Ginny were here, as well, when a _crack_ announced Harry, Draco Malfoy and two more black-robed wizards' arrival in the middle of the room.

"Mission accomplished," Harry grinned and let himself plunk down into one of the pillows. Draco settled down next to him, with a lot more style of course, and leaned against the 'new dark lord'.

Their entourage took off their sunglasses, and while Severus Snape sat down with the others, ignoring Arthur Weasley's deprecatory look, Blaise took off with Hermione to the next room; only to reappear right away carrying a tray loaded with drinks and tiny cakes.

"Mister Weasley, please help yourself," Draco Malfoy of all people invited him. Arthur felt as though he'd been sucked into one of those Muggle films, the ones where wizards meddled in the affairs of Muggles, danced naked under the new moon and summoned demons. A Malfoy was polite towards him and even sounded friendly while doing so?! His world stood on its head.

He addressed the person who held the single most responsibility for his confusion. "Harry... why did you make me come? What have you done to Sirius? Where are my other children? And -"

"Woah, slow down, Mister Weasley," Harry admonished him with a grin. "I understand your burning desire to know the answers to those highly relevant questions, but let's tackle them one after the other, alright?

"Firstly. Sirius's nerves were shot because I left him in the dark for an entire week about the significance of the phoenix mark on his arm. He thought it was Dumbledore's symbol; when in fact, it's mine. Now he's aware of this, I hope he will get better soon.

"Secondly. I snook Fred and George out of prison and they joined me, even though I was the reason they were sent to Azkaban in the first place."

"We were -"

"- less than impressed -"

"- with the impressive lack of support -"

"- form the Order and other friends," Fred and George explained.

"Ron is with my relatives," Harry continued. "We had planned to have a look how he's doing today, which is why I stood on punctuality so much in my 'invitation' to you.

"As for Ginny, I only know she searched for me and then she found me. However, my attitude towards love did not impress her and as far as I know, she is currently en route to a happy, chaste life far away from me, thank goodness."

Arthur looked at the young man in alarm. "Please tell me you have not done anything to her."

Harry grinned. "Not to her, no; and that is precisely what she could not deal with."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I am more for the blond than the red-headed beauties..." He laid his arms around Draco's neck and scooted closer to his boyfriend until he was sitting entirely in his lap.

"I see..." Mister Weasley mumbled, obviously unsure how to handle this information.

"Alright, well Percy has been on my side for some time, now. But you already knew this, didn't you?" Harry continued while seating himself more comfortably on top of Draco. Said man flushed deeply from Harry's fidgeting, but he reined in his natural reactions and kept silent. After all, they were conducting an important meeting, although it appeared that no one had ever taught Harry the difference between familial and official contexts. Well, who would have, considering who his family were...

"Before we leave to visit... Ronald," Harry now went on, "I wish to explain a few things to you, Fred, George, Mister Weasley." He raised a hand and summoned - wandlessly - a small pensieve into which he quickly deposited several memories. A small shudder briefly ran through him as though he were cold, then he once again turned towards the Weasleys who had watched the scene with obvious curiosity.

"Your youngest has now enjoyed the hospitality of my relatives for a month and experienced first hand how I have grown up. Up until now, he always seemed to think that being the famous and popular Harry Potter -" Draco snorted derisively behind him - "I had been spoiled rotten as a child. Even your rescue mission in our second year was just a game to him. Well, he might have reconsidered by now. At least I hope so.

"And just so you can't accuse me later on of having the Dursleys acting so much worse towards Ron than they ever did towards me, I have put together a few of my childhood memories for you. Have a look and then later decide for yourselves." With these words he pushed the pensieve towards the three surprised redheads. The Weasleys all looked at each other, then lowered their wands to the churning mist as one man and - vanished.

"Are you certain you wish to share your memories with that many people?" Draco asked, concerned. Lost in thought, Harry looked at the little pensieve and said: "I think I have to. I want to move past it, you know? But in order to do so, I first have to admit to myself that it really did happen, that it happened to _me_ , that I was unable to fight back - and that I am quite capable of fighting back now and that something like that will never happen to me again!"

Draco hugged his determined Gryffindor and squeezed him tightly. Harry leaned back against Draco with a contented sigh and relaxed. "If more people knew about my... underprivileged childhood, maybe more of them would understand me. I think I have remained silent long enough."

In sleepy communion, the two young wizards sat on their sofa and waited for the three Weasleys' return.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaand we're caught up to this fic on FFN. I fear that updates will take a bit longer from now on since I haven't translated much beyond this point yet. I'll keep working on it, though!


	15. Number Four, Privet Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Disclaimer: see first chapter)  
> Chapter warning: Mentions of child abuse and of sexual harrassment. Also, mentions of male pregnancy.  
> A/N: Chapter contains an odd lemon - I was experimenting with different writing styles at the time, and this is one of the results. If you do not want to read smut, just skip the section delimited by '***'. Also, there's a cut-out scene, similarly marked, that is printed at the end of the chapter in case you wish to read it.

_Dancing in the moonlight_   
_Singing in the rain_   
_Oh, it's good to be back home again_   
_Laughing in the sunlight_   
_Running down the lane_   
_Oh, it's good to be back home again._

_~Blackmore's Knight, Home Again_

* * *

"Harry. Come in." Petunia had expected her nephew to show up one of these days to collect that other wizard. Still, she was nervous. She looked askance at the shady characters the young wizard had brought around this time. Apart from the dangerous blond from last time, the group now included three redheaded men who looked eerily familiar.

_Relatives of the lazy freak the boys has made us accommodate?_ Possibly. However... wasn't there something else?

A young woman was the last to enter the Dursley residence. Petunia was surprised: she did not look like the other freaks, she wore normal, respectable clothes and did not comport herself in any way out of the norm. Was she even one of _them_?

"Do we all fit into the kitchen or had we better take seats in the living room, aunt?" Harry asked. His tone was distanced, yet polite; nothing like the coldly furious tone she remembered with uncomfortable clarity from his last visit.

"The living room, I think," she answered grudgingly.

Her nephew seemed to take note of her reluctance, for he gave her a cheeky grin and whispered conspiratorially: "No worries, auntie, we'll leave your living room in one piece. Mister Weasley will keep away from the fireplace and sockets, promise."

With twinkling eyes, he passed by the shocked woman who was just now remembering where she had seen that red-headed wizard before. An ash-covered carped appeared before her inner eye, a shouting Vernon, Dudley's tongue lolling about the floor like a slippery eel...

Using the pretence of wanting to make tea, Petunia took herself off to the kitchen in order to calm down. _What a happy coincidence that Vernon isn't home! He would surely have thrown a fit and angered the freaks. Who knows what they would have done then..._

When she returned to the living room, armed with a large pot of hot tea and a tray of cups, Petunia's gaze fell straight upon her sister's son who had found a seat in the great armchair directly opposite the door _on top of the blond wizard_! She had always known the boy was not normal, but somehow he still managed to find new ways to disgust her.

With great haste, she forced cups into the two young men's hands, quickly turning towards her other guests, three of which were seated on the sofa beside the door, while the fourth had taken a seat on a stool next to the window.

The three redheads considered her with intense looks; Petunia was fairly creeped out. She had seen these people only once before, so how could their faces show looks of such intense disgust? Surely, she had to be mistaken.

The young woman was once again a positive surprise when she politely accepted the offered cup and took an elegant little sip of her tea. However, Petunia's hopes that at least one of her visitors might be normal burst like soap bubbles in the rain a moment later: The young woman had brought forth a silvery shimmering cloth which she wrapped entirely around herself, still sipping her tea - and vanished completely from Petunia's sight!

_Don't look at it,_ Petunia told herself, _don't think about it. Just ignore it._

Resolutely, she turned around and pretended that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Harry Potter," she now addressed the Troublemaker Number One, "why are you here?"

Harry smirked at her. "I am sure you already know," he said happily and scooted around a little in his seat. The visible effect that had on his warm, alive sofa cushion was reflected clearly in his aunt's disgusted face; he enjoyed it nearly as much as the more _tangible_ effect he had originally aimed for.

Happy with his success, he decided to detonate the bomb. "May I present to you the Weasleys and Hermione Granger? They are the family and girlfriend of Ronald Weasley, whom I have left in your care about five weeks ago. I hope you have treated him appropriately?"

_Family and girlfriend???_ Petunia's face quickly drained of colour. The middle-aged woman staggered and had to brace herself against the wall to avoid crashing to the floor. _Oh God, they will murder me!_

"You... you told us no one would know what... Or I would not have..." What could she possibly say? The boy surely knew exactly how they had treated that wizard. He had all but directly told them to! And still he had dragged the boy's family along?

She tried to get a grip in order to at least go down with dignity. "I see. So this is the way you mean to take your revenge against us?" She stood up straight and tried to look condescending. She even succeeded fairly well - if one ignored her trembling knees.

But then a soft, amused voice resounded from the corner where the young woman had sat before she turned... invisible... "Harry, that's enough. The poor woman looks ready to have a heart attack. And then who will bring me my sweetheart, hm?"

Petunia was shocked to see her nephew's reaction.

He laughed.

But it was not the cold, scornful laugh he had shown towards her before; nor was it the dark, menacing laugh he had demonstrated in front of the wizard currently inhabiting her basement. No, this was an easy, happy laugh, light-hearted and simply honestly amused. With not a little surprise, she realized that she had known this person for seventeen years, but today was the first time she really saw him LAUGH.

The black-haired boy turned his merrily twinkling eyes to her. "I'm sorry, aunt, I just couldn't deny myself the pleasure of teasing you a little. Yes, all of these people truly care about Ronald; but they have promised me not to harm you. Oh, and in case you are wondering why they are already trying to kill you with looks alone: That has nothing to do with Ronald and everything with me telling them about my childhood. They consider your educational methods to be... somewhat lacking."

The growl uttered by two throats from the direction of the sofa would have frightened a werewolf.

"'Somewhat lacking' is a bit of an understatement," Mister Weasley remarked drily, grabbing his two sons, whose eyes were shooting daggers at Petunia, by the collars of their shirts to hold them back.

"Maybe now would be a good time to go fetch your guest?" Harry asked casually as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Oh, umh... yes!" As quickly as her dignity permitted, Petunia exited the room. "BOY!!!" she then screamed at the top of her lungs. In the living room, Harry flinched nervously and got pitying and sympathetic gazes from the others. His past had shaped him, and some of it he had still not overcome to this day.

* * *

Ron lay on his mattress and listened to the autumn wind rattling the tiny cellar window above his head. How long had he been here now? Four weeks? Five? No day was like the other, and yet in his despair and fear even keeping track of the date was beyond him. At night, he did not dare stick his head out from underneath his blanket out of fear one of the spiders would exploit his helplessness and abseil itself onto him while he slept. During the day, the Dursleys worked him like a house elf, while their son... Ron shivered.

_Your parents know that I killed you... so you are officially dead and no one will come looking for you._ Potter's words were prowling around his head as though hunting for a last shred of hope in order to tear it apart. Once again he saw the evil glint in the dark wizard's eyes as he lowered the feletone and said: _They got Granger._

He sobbed drily, then hastily stuck the sleeve of his shirt into his mouth to muffle all noise.

In the beginning, when he first came to realize the hopelessness of his situation, he had screamed and cried in anger and despair. But the large, heavy Muggle - Mister Dursley, he fearfully corrected himself - had soon come down into the cellar and had unequivocally pointed out to Ron that he was not to make any noise.

Two days later, Ron had recovered enough for Mrs. Dursley to forbid him from further 'lazing about' and to bury him with work from morning till night.

At home, at the Burrow, Ron had sometimes helped with undoxifying the house or degnoming the garden, or been roped into doing the shopping in Diagon Alley. But everything else was either done by magic or his mother had taken care of it. Ginny alone had sometimes been asked to help with cooking or doing the laundry. Ron though had _not the faintest idea_ of household chores.

Used to, anyway.

Now he was able to wash and hang laundry, handle a mop and brush, operate a hoover and weed the garden, he knew the purpose of a toilet brush, how to remove broken dishes without magic (for of course, Dudley'd had the effrontery to create as much nasty work for Ron as possible.) Dudley Dursley. He shivered again. Better not to think of that.

Ron turned on his side and closed his eyes. It could not be much past eight o'clock yet, but he was already tired enough to go to sleep. He had been locked in the cellar for the last three days because he had given in to his curiosity and dared to ask a question.

_If the Dursleys hated magic so much, then why had they taken in Harry and turned him into such a spoilt, egocentrical monster? Had they never heard of the benefits of a strict upbringing?_

The implication that "the Potter boy's freakishness" might be their fault did not agree with the Dursleys - and as a consequence, not with Ron's health, either. He still wondered why their reaction had been so aggressive. Were they not proud of the monster they had created? To slap him one but good, lock him in the cellar and reduce his meals to one bread with cheese a day frankly seemed a bit of overkill, just for that.

On the other hand, the Dursleys were really not quite normal. Maybe that was not overkill but their usual modus operandi? After all, it also seemed to be par for the course that Ron was to blame for everything as a rule, and would be punished for all of Dudley's mistakes...

The doorbell rang. Ron listened attentively to Mrs. Dursley's steps hurrying to the door, followed by several people's footsteps moving towards the living room. Curious; apart from Dudley's friends coming to pick the rotund boy up for their wanderings through the neighbourhood, the Dursleys had only once had visitors during the entire times Ron had …vegetated with them. Those had been business acquaintances of Mr. Dursley's. But neither Mr. Dursley nor his obnoxious son were home this evening; who then could those visitors be?

_Doesn't matter_ , Ron thought dully, _I am on cellar detention until the end of the week, I'll never know. And it really doesn't concern me anyway. Why should I care?_

He yawned and was just about to pull the blanket over his head to prepare for sleep, when an unpleasant, loud yell came down the stairs: "BOY!"

* * *

Hermione sat on the chair next to the window and waited anxiously for Ron's entrance. She knew more than she liked about the Dursleys and their hatred for all things magic from Harry's memories. No matter what she might have said to Harry in order to soothe his conscience, she did worry about Ron. Hopefully he was dealing alright with all this!

She and Harry had agreed to keep Ron in the dark, at first, about the fact that she was alive and well and had joined Harry's side. First, they wanted to witness his reaction to Harry. There was always time for another shock later.

Harry wanted to let her choose whether they took Ron with them today or left him here for a bit longer. For at present, Hermione knew both Ron and Harry better than anyone else; she was therefore best placed to judge if the temperamental redhead had learned anything in those five weeks at the Dursleys' home.

Hermione heard footsteps and kept her eyes glued to the living room door. First, Mrs. Dursley entered the room. She stepped aside and gave way for their gazes to find Ron right behind her.

Her Ron.

How she had missed him! She looked Ron carefully up and down, noting the pale cheeks, the bags underneath his eyes, the hunched shoulders and vigilant, bordering on terrified, gaze.

_Oh Ron, what have they done to you!_ Hermione decided that Ron surely must have suffered enough. They would get him out of here, right this very day! She was just about to take off the invisibility cloak and inform Harry of her decision - when Ron pre-empted her.

His eyes had locked on the black-haired wizard, the tips of his hair shining green and silver, sitting comfortably in an armchair opposite him and considering him with a level gaze. "Potter!" Ron yelled angrily and jumped forward. He raised his hand and was about to plant it smack into the middle of his former schoolyard friend's face, only -

"BOY!" Petunia Dursley screeched, "BEHAVE!"

Ron froze. He stood motionless in the centre of the room, his fist raised, looking back and forth between Harry and his aunt and starting to tremble uncontrollably. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor. Turning towards Petunia Dursley, he threw her a fearful glance, before quickly lowering his eyes to the floor in front of him. "I... I'm sorry?"

Petunia held her nose high, sniffed disdainfully and pronounced haughtily: "As well you should be."

Ron trembled with anger and fear. There was the man who had murdered his Hermione. And there was absolutely nothing Ron could do. Had he been of no use to the Dursleys, Potter would have killed him a month ago. As Ron saw it, he now had a life debt towards this family. If he did anything to harm them, he might be risking his magic. He had to obey.

Of course he did not _feel_ the life debt as one would a magical oath; but since he'd never had a life debt before, he could not be certain there was none. Some believed that life debts were only a myth from the olden days which the Ministry kept alive in order to motivate wizards to live up to a certain moral standard. Wormtail still being able to do magic despite his life debt towards Potter would seem to give weight to that theory, considering his support of his master in his quest to kill Potter.

_But then just look at what has become of the rat! An obsequious, weak doormat for his master to walk all over, living as a fearful fugitive now that his lord has died._ Was that fate's punishment for ignoring a life debt? Ron shuddered. Better not to risk it!

He anxiously looked up at the strict Muggle woman who was towering above him with arms akimbo. But her eyes were no longer fixed on him, but on Potter, who was still sprawled with provocativeabandon across Malfoy on that armchair.

"Have you come to take him away, then?" Ron's heart dropped down into his holey socks. Potter had said, back then, that it was only for a month or two. Would he kill him now?

Harry took his time answering. He was decidedly unsure what to do. It was ultimately up to Hermione, of course; but the girl had been remarkably silent since Ron showed up. Harry had expected his friend to jump on the Weasley the moment he entered the living room with a haunted look in his eyes like a younger Harry, and bearing bruises like a Malfoy house elf all over his body.

That Hermione had not immediately demanded they take Ron with them showed Harry that he was still underestimating the girl. She had a much better handle on her emotions than Harry himself probably would have in a similar situation.

Either way, Petunia demanded an answer. And since Hermione had retreated into silence, the decision was up to Harry. "Tell me aunt, has he been useful?"

Petunia Dursley's answer was an un-ladylike, derisive snort. "Useful, well. At first I thought he might serve to replace you. Not that you'd ever been such a valuable help..."

The Weasleys and Hermione scowled ferociously, while Harry just " _humph_ "ed and quietly murmured "But of course."

"- but this character here is simply unbearable!" Petunia continued. "Bo-" no, she could no longer call him that, that was the other one, now. Potter, maybe? 'You, wizard?' or just... "Harry -" It sounded highly unnatural from her lips. Somehow, it felt anything but right. Yet there was nothing for it now but to swallow that poison.

"Harry, this _freak_ cannot do anything right! He washes silk blouses at 80°C, cleans the sink with the toilet brush and weeds the geraniums instead of the pests! It took me three weeks to get the use of the simplest household tools through his thick skull! He's afraid of spiders and talks to the telly! Really, I don't know if you have done us a favour by sticking us with this freak.

"...But since he was here anyway, I wanted to make use of him. Now he's finally at a point where he might start being a little useful - if Vernon hadn't grounded him to the cellar in a fit of rage," she grumbled angrily.

She saw her nephew cast a fairly pitying look at the red-headed picture of misery at her feet. Right, he had his own experiences with being grounded to the cupboard. _He,_ however, had never complained about his tiny food rations, or about the cold, the spiders, the sparse admissions to the bathroom, the... Well somehow this new one was complaining about pretty much everything.

Sometimes, Petunia wondered if things could possibly have been even half as bad with them for her sister's son as this other wizard would have her believe.

"You know he's... complicated. He is always complaining and only shuts up when Vernon gets rough with him. He is so recalcitrant, nothing like you were."

Harry's icy smile made a return. "Am I supposed to feel flattered?"

Petunia silently stared at him, trying to figure out if she'd said something wrong. She finally decided simply to change the topic. "Well, that is... At any rate, it would be terribly disadvantageous if you were to take the freak away just when he is beginning to be useful."

"Humm," Harry hummed. Then he abruptly addressed the trembling Weasley on the floor. "Ronald Weasley, if you had anything to say about this, would you rather stay here or come with me?"

Ron looked up and heaved a dry sob. "Potter, if you take me with you, I'll probably die this very day; yet if I stay here, I will likely wish I _were_ dead before the weak is out - so please just take me along and make an end!"

Harry exchanged glances with the shocked Weasleys. When he felt his snake amulet softly vibrating, he activated it. _"Ask him what he means by that,"_ Hermione's voice resounded in his head. _"There seems to be more to this than the usual Dursley torment. Ron is usually much to afraid of death to come out with something like this."_

Harry's brows furrowed in thought. He agreed with Hermione that Ron seemed to be holding something back, something that he probably would not like.

"Tell me, Weasley: why are you so sure that you will wish for death within the week if forced to stay here?"

Silence. Ron stared angrily at Harry, but refused to say a word. Only his ears had begun to glow a bright red.

"Very well," Harry said decisively and took out a tiny phial. "What a waste," he groused as he fed the barely struggling Ron a few drops of Veritaserum. "I'm doing this just for your sake," he growled with a short glance at the empty stool below the window.

_"Thank you,"_ he heard Hermione's mildly amused, yet also very tense voice.

Everyone waited for a few seconds with baited breaths, then Harry turned to question Ron. "Well, Ronald, what in this house scares you the most?"

With glassy eyes and visibly against his will, Ron confessed: "Dudley."

"And why is that?" Harry asked, now just as tense as Hermione.

"Because he's a pervert," Ron answered through clenched teeth. He lowered his eyes and missed the shocked look Harry exchanged with Petunia.

"Aunt, what is this?" he asked nervously.

His aunt shrugged. "I have no explanation," she replied.

Harry searched his memories. "I remember the holidays after my second school year," he said hesitantly. "Dudley kept making odd insinuations, and stopped hitting me where it really hurt, preferring to aim for my backside, or... But it never went beyond that. A year later, Sirius was my godfather and Dudley did not dare touch me any longer..."

"Harry! You never breathed a word about this!" Draco erupted.

Harry answered with a wry smile. "If I wanted to tell you about everything anyone had ever done to me, we'd be old and doddery before I finished. But I told you about all the important ones."

"Really now? And sexual harassment, that is nothing to you?" The blond was beside himself with anger.

Harry grinned. He felt reminded of a spitting cat. He lovingly laid an arm around the other man's neck and pulled his head close. "Dray, it never went any further. Nothing happened to me. Honestly, Dumbledore's _Cruciatus_ and Trelawney's constant prophesying of my death have hurt me more..."

This did not really assuage the blond's anger, but he decided to save this discussion for another day. After all, the Veritaserum they had given the weasel was not going to last forever.

"So," Draco asked the redhead with cold directness, "what did he do to you?"

It was an evil question and Draco could feel the remaining Weasleys at Ron's back (he still had not noticed them) staring daggers at him. But this had to be cleared up once and for all.

"He... Whenever he catches me alone, he tells me what he wants to do to me. He scares me," Ron began piteously. "He's staying with a friend this weekend, when he comes back he wants to follow through and -"

"That is enough! _Silencio!_ " Hermione's cutting voice interrupted Ron's revelations. "Harry, I would not have resisted you leaving him here for a time longer, despite him looking like death warmed over. Just as long as I get him back in one piece in the end. But THIS -" she frantically waved a hand in Ron's direction "- is unacceptable. He cannot stay here."

"Hermione, calm down. I agree with you one hundred percent," Harry hurried to reassure her. With the invisibility cloak still hanging from her head, allowing only half her face and body to be seen, Hermione looked mighty scary. Ron stared at her as though seeing a ghost. In a way, he was.

Hermione now addressed Petunia. "Mrs. Dursley, we only briefly had the pleasure. I am Hermione Granger, girlfriend of this adorable, bumbling man here -" she briefly indicated Ron "- and I am _not_ amused by what I just heard. If your son raises his hand against my boyfriend one more time or harasses him in any way, shape or form, he will have been a man for the longest time. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry was surprised that his aunt had not retreated from the enraged young woman who had swooped down on her like a fury. Petunia Dursley was standing tall, head proudly held high, and met Hermione's fiery gaze with a no less impressive glare of her own.

"I understand your anger perfectly well, Ms. Granger, but rest assured that my son will not perform any further assaults of this sort. I am ashamed to admit that I had no inkling of my son's depravity; however, now that I am aware of the situation, I will certainly take action. ONE freak in this family is quite enough!"

Her hard eyes met Harry's no less hard ones, and the two of them seemed to come to a silent agreement: _Dudley will learn manners._ His time of carefree laissez-faire was past.

Ron had frozen. There, not two meters from him, stood Hermione. She was alive, she was really alive, and she was radiant in her anger. How could this be? He mutely watched her putting both Potter and his aunt in their places.

Hermione. Potter had not killed her. How was this possible? Potter had no heart. And he was bent on revenge. Just look at what he had done to Ron, he could not possible have spared Hermione. Yet Potter had not killed her. What had he done to her then? Something worse?

Still mute, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he examined his girlfriend.

She looked good. Not starved, not wounded, neither sad nor frightened. Just furious, and that was for HIS sake. Did she still love him? Whatever Potter may have done to her, it did not appear to have left any traces. Ron did not understand.

"Hermione...?"

Hermione stopped glaring at Harry and his aunt and lowered her gaze. There, at her feet, sat her beloved Ron and looked at her with questioning, hopeful eyes. "Hermione, is it really you?"

The hard lines around her mouth softened at seeing his insecure face. She fell to her knees and hugged him. "Oh, Ron!"

The redhead tensed at first, but when he breathed in the scent of her hair, his arms wrapped around her body and squeezed her tight. It was really her!

Ron wanted to stay in Hermione's arms like this forever, but all too soon, she was once more withdrawing from him. She held him off at arm's length and looked at him with serious eyes. "Ron, please tell me what you have learned about Harry during these past five weeks. Do you think differently about him than you used to?"

Ron's face darkened. "Oh, I certainly do! If I still had any doubts that he is the new dark lord, they have now been put to rest. He is evil, Hermione! He has imprisoned me here with these Muggles and allows them to torture me and... and..." He broke off when he saw Potter and Mrs. Dursley turn towards them with matching sceptical looks.

"Tell me, Harry, what was your purpose in delivering this freak to us?" Mrs. Dursley asked her nephew.

Said nephew sighed and pulled his aunt along to the kitchen. "I better explain it to you elsewhere."

Ron followed the pair with his eyes until they had left the living room. In doing so, his gaze fell upon the sofa next to the door. He inhaled sharply.

"Dad?! Fred, George??? How are you here? ...Oh God." Bad enough that they saw him like this, but they must have heard what he had said about the Muggle boy, as well. The shame! On the other hand... "Will you get me out of here?"

The three Weasleys on the sofa looked pale, and Fred's nose was decidedly green-tinged, yet all of them also looked rather determined. The looks considering him made Ron nervous, although he was unsure why. It was a feeling as though he'd just been caught sawing at the Gryffindor team's brooms before a game. He felt... shabby. Like he had made some grave mistake.

"Why... why are you all staring at me? Did I do something wrong?" When no answer was forthcoming, he feverishly racked his brains as to what sin he might be accused of. His confession of a few minutes ago popped into his mind.

"It's not my fault if that pervert of a Muggle is after me! You can't possibly blame me for that!!! It's all Potter's fault!"

If possible, his family's looks grew even darker at Ron's words. Nearly as though they disagreed with them. Did they think he WANTED to be hunted by that Muggle? Or that Potter was not to blame for this? Pfff, impossible - wasn't it?

Now that he thought about it... They must have arrived with Potter. And Hermione had also said something that made his thoughts come to a screeching halt.

"Hermione, why did you say you would not mind leaving me here even longer? You could not possibly have meant that."

Hermione removed her hand from his shoulder, scooted a little further away from him and considered him carefully. "You have no idea why you are here, do you, Ron?"

Ron was confused. What did she mean?

"Harry had hoped you'd understand him better if you got to know the family he has grown up with."

Now he was seriously bewildered. How should it help him understand Potter's freakishness to be tortured by these Muggles all day long? He scowled at Hermione darkly. "Well, at least I now know where he got his wickedness."

His girlfriend was not best pleased. That steep frown line he'd learned to fear had formed between her eyebrows. It usually made an appearance if he refused to put more effort into his homework or to let her motivate him to study more. It meant Hermione was in fact HIGHLY cross with him.

"Ron, do you actually get that Harry has lived through eleven years of what you have experienced these five weeks?"

"What?" Ron looked at his girlfriend in disbelief; then he laughed. "Good one, Hermione! You nearly had me there. But I know you are much too intelligent to believe that story. Potter, neglected and abused as a child? Sure! And Voldemort was actually a misunderstood tragic hero!" He giggled and only stopped when he felt his brothers', father's and girlfriend's heavy gazes upon himself.

"What now? You don't seriously believe what this dark wizard is telling you? He's just play-acting! If he was ever capable of telling the truth, that certainly ended the moment he fell in with the Slytherins. Seriously, Hermione, all Slytherins are dirty liars, everyone knows that!"

"Ronald Weasley, I am so sick of your prejudices!"

"'scuse me?"

It was at that moment Harry returned with his aunt.

"Harry," Hermione now turned to him, "I fear Ron is not quite ready to come home with us yet. We should leave him here a few more weeks."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you quite sure?"

"Absolutely."

Ron did not want to believe his ears. Stunned, he gaped at his girlfriend. "Hermione!!!"

She turned towards him and there was true regret in her voice when she explained: "There are just so many things you still don't understand, Ron... But I will give you this advice: Have a look at that old cupboard under the stairs. And into Dudley's second room. If you pay close attention, you will not miss the clues I mean."

Ron noticed that Potter looked fairly confused. "Hermione, what are you talking about?" the dark lord asked.

The young woman smiled at him sadly. "Harry, you might have suppressed these memories, but I have seen them. Your first attempt to... escape, has left traces. And your loneliness, too."

Harry still looked puzzled, but then something seemed to click for him, and his eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh..."

"Mrs. Dursley, please grant Ronald some time to look at the cupboard and Harry's old room, would you?" Hermione requested. "It would also be great if you could answer any questions he has about Harry." Petunia sniffed and looked down her nose at Ron, then gave a short nod.

"Excuse me for interrupting," Mr. Weasley's voice suddenly made itself heard, "but the question of Dudley Dursley still has not been answered."

"Right, about that," Harry spoke up, "I have a question for you, Hermione: do you still remember that spell you put on Ginny when that Corner would not leave her alone?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and Ron watched a wolfish grin overtaking her traits. He had never seen her like this. Oh God, she was deeply under Potter's spell!

"You mean that curse that will induce nausea in anyone just _thinking_ about laying a hand on her?"

Potter nodded.

"Oh yes... I also very well remember the effect."

Laughter sounded from the sofa. "Hermione," Fred asked, "so it's your fault Michael took off for the bathroom after nearly every class?"

"We were starting to think he was pregnant," George added.

"Is that actually possible?" Potter asked aghast.

"Not in the Muggle world," Ron's father enlightened him, "but in ours, yes."

Ron watched with amazement as Potter stood, revealing a somewhat rumpled, but otherwise happy-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Draco!" Potter yelled, "you couldn't have told me about that?!" He definitely seemed a little panicked. Ron shook himself. Potter was doing Malfoy. Ugh...

"Ron!" Hermione quietly berated him, "don't say anything wrong, now! They love each other, just as we do. There is nothing wrong about that at all. And if you cannot understand that, I am tempted to leave you here a few weeks longer still than even Harry had planned! Harry really doesn't need people around him who would scoff at the first love he ever got in his life."

"First love?" Ron scoffed. "You talk as though his relatives hated him as much as they do me, and as though there were not a thousand fans out there who love the boy-who-lived!"

He was appalled when Hermione rolled her eyes at him and barked curtly: "You should know as well as I do that he's always hated his fame. And yes, his relatives did hate him!"

Ron was about to reply to that, but Hermione's focus had switched back to the dark lord and his lover.

"Harry, does that mean you've finally done it?" she asked sweetly.

Ron groaned; Potter and Malfoy stopped fighting and flushed in unison.

"Eeeerm... well, actually...," the black-haired boy stuttered.

"So that's a no," Hermione stated. "Then what are you so angry about?"

Harry did not know what to say. Thankfully, Hermione had misunderstood him. He had not been stuttering because he was ashamed as always that his and Draco's physical relationship still had not progressed - no, this time he had flushed because more _had_ happened. Rather a lot more.

The night Ginny tore out of the Snake Pit screeching like a banshee, they had all... celebrated their victory together. They'd downed large amounts of firewhiskey and when Draco and Harry staggered back to their room, Draco had jested that they should browse _Eppy's Diary_ a little before bed. Harry had been way too wasted to care one way or the other. So they had lain down on the bed side by side and started reading the book that, for some reason, was adorned with an innocent little _Hello Kitty_ drawing.

While they read, Draco's arm had slowly made its way across Harry's shoulders and the blond had started petting him gently. Soon, though, their reading made an impression on both wizards. The petting increased; not much later, the book lay forgotten on the bedside table while the two young men rolled around on the bed tightly wrapped around each other.

Their clothes were negligently strewn around the bed, Draco grabbed his wand and cast a few spells at the door to ensure their privacy. Soon, alcohol was no longer the reason for the couple's intoxication...

_***_

_Two naked bodies glistening in the light of a small bedside lamp._

_Hot kisses._

_Hands caressing skin and taut muscles._

_Moaning._

_Desire._

_A tiny whimper._

_"Harry?"_

_"Draco..." Soft as a breeze; breathless._

_"What is it?"_

_"I want more..."_

_"More?"_

_"Everything... I want what we read about..."_

_Two hands, suddenly frozen; beginning to tremble._

_Lips opening in silent adoration._

_"Harry, you are so beautiful."_

_A smile._

_"Are you certain that you want this?"_

_"Absolutely. But it won't work with all that alcohol..._ Sobrietus! _"_

_A shocked look from wide open silver-grey eyes met the sparkling radiance of still lust-cloaked green ones._

_"Harry! I don't know if..."_

_A frown._

_"Was it only the alcohol?"_

_"Oh Merlin, no! I want you, sober or drunk, awake or asleep... I... I just don' t know if you're really ready to... well..."_

_"Trust me. Would I have asked if I didn't want this?"_

_A shared smile._

_Then a hesitantly extended hand._

_A moan._

_The second hand, bolder._

_A blink; then green eyes close in rapture._

_Soon after, a third hand._

_"Draco?!"_

_A quick grin._

_"I have also continued reading on my own... Just lean back and enjoy!"_

_Hands caressing, teasing, worshipping his entire body._

_Suddenly, something cool, moist._

_"Aah!"_

_Shock._

_"Relax, it's just cream."_

_An unfamiliar feeling. Wrong, somehow..._

_Fingers moving._

_Ever deeper._

_Mild pain._

_Then a piercing pain of an entirely different sort._

_...Right._

_As right as nothing before in his life._

_"Aaaaaah!"_

_A smile._

_"That's the spot, then?"_

_"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"_

_"I take that as a 'yes'..."_

_Panting._

_A whimper._

_Fingers arresting their movement; a worried glance._

_"Does it hurt?"_

_No reply._

_Then, a twitch._

_A blond head leaning forward as red lips open._

_"More..." like a whisper of the wind._

_A happy smile, invisible to eyes closed in ravishment._

_"More."_

_Agreement._

_The fingers retreat._

_Emptiness._

_"…?"_

_Discontent. Puzzlement._

_Sudden pressure, tightness._

_"Ah!"_

_Standstill._

_"Alright?"_

_"Go on...!"_

_Warmth._

_Closeness._

_Contentment._

_Then first, tentative movements._

_Moaning. From two throats._

_Then, a scream._

_"More!"_

_Sweat of two bodies, mingling. Sounds of ecstasy rising towards the ceiling, entangled, seeming to reverberate from the walls._

_Four hands pleasuring one body._

_Feeling safe and warm._

_Loved._

_A hand moving up and down to the rhythm of the two bodies._

_A small point quivering in pleasure with each thrust._

_Two mouths locking, sharing their panting breaths._

_Then, at last, fulfilment._

_Heat. Fireworks._

_And unbounded euphoria._

_***_

This night would stay in their minds for long years to come.

However... contraception had not been involved.

"Draco..." Harry snarled, ignoring Hermione completely, "tell me honestly, did you know about this possibility?"

Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, love, you know..."

"You grew up in the wizarding world," Harry stated. "You must have known!"

"Well... umm... yes."

"DRACO!"

Hermione's forehead was now crinkled in a very severe frown. "Draco Malfoy, when were you going to enlighten Harry?"

Draco was squirming under the brunette witch's eyes.

"Umh, some other time?"

At that moment, the discrete clearing of a throat could be heard from the sofa. "Say, would you mind discussing the matter at home? Harry's aunt looks about to keel over."

The others followed Fred's worried-amused gaze and saw he was correct. Aunt Petunia was leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and her breath coming in quick pants. Harry thought he heard her mumbling to herself: "...just ignore them. Will be gone soon. Men do not get pregnant. It is that easy. Everything is perfectly alright. Just do not listen..."

He threw Draco a _look_ that destroyed the blond's hopes of having gotten off lightly, then forcefully put his anger aside for the moment. "So, Hermione, that spell...?"

"Yes. Right. The spell... Well we cannot use the variant I picked for Ginny, because that would get you, too. After all, you are spitting mad at Ron, I am sure you fantasize at times about doing him serious damage. If that made you hurl each time, that'd be somewhat impractical...

"But there is another version of this spell, cast on the perpetrator rather than their victim. The effect is the same, only it would not be limited to just Ron. Each time your cousin thought about doing something to anyone against their will, he'd get sick to his stomach. Also, there is a lovely addendum to this spell that prevents him from acting on his intentions - which ever kind they may be - should he approach another without their agreement despite everything."

She smirked evilly. "I heard that a wizard who ignored his body's warning to curse another despite the sickness, was nearly rendered a squib. What it would do to a man trying to force himself on another, I can only guess, but I am convinced Dudley would not enjoy the result..."

Harry laughed. Trust Hermione to be thorough.

"Great. Please visit him when he returns home tomorrow, Hermione, and curse him to the best of your abilities." Most people in the room wore wide grins.

Only Aunt Petunia did not seem happy with the arrangement. "If he tries anything... and the curse takes exception to it... will the consequences be permanent?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothing that cannot be fixed, Mrs. Dursley," Hermione assuaged her worries. "But you better don't tell him that." Petunia Dursley managed a shaky smile and hesitantly commented: "Well, maybe he will learn something from the experience..."

This time, really everyone was laughing.

"Harry," Hermione now spoke up, "I have never cast this variant of the spell. I am not entirely sure -"

"Not a problem," Harry interrupted. Everyone watched curiously as he sat back down on top of Draco and summoned a bucket which he clutched tightly in one hand. "Please curse Draco for me, will you?"

"Hey!" the blond cried indignantly.

"Be quiet, Dragon. I will make it up to you tonight, alright?" Harry soothed him and dreamily batted his eyelashes. Hermione stared at him. What was he planning? This was certainly not Harry's usual behaviour.

Whatever the intended purpose, Harry's flirting was certainly having an effect on Draco, for Draco grudgingly gave in and let Hermione cast the spell on him.

"Now what?" he asked Harry, still a little annoyed.

Harry leant in close and started whispering in his ear. Hermione and everyone else watched spellbound as Draco's face first lit up, then darkened, and finally turned chalky white.

*** ... ***

The blond leaned over the chair's arm and noisily hurled into the ready bucket.

"Success," Harry merrily announced while vanishing the bucket. "Hermione, please reverse the spell, would you?"

Under Draco's enraged eyes, Hermione hurried to comply.

Ron sat on the floor wondering what had gone wrong that both his girlfriend and his family were on good terms with Harry Potter and even making jokes with the monster at his expense. What could Potter have whispered to the ferret? Umh, upon closer consideration - maybe he'd rather not know.

What he understood least of all, though, was Potter's worry for him, concerning Dudley. Why did he leave him with the Dursleys if not to torture him? Why then should he prevent the horrible Dursley boy from humiliating him further?

Ron was grateful to Hermione for wanting to spare him from Dudley; at the same time, though, he felt betrayed by her apparent alliance with Potter _against him_! And his family, as well! Only his mother had not joined in. What could have kept her from a visit? Didn't she want to see him? Or was she the only one to not have fallen prey to the Potter mania?

Ron racked his brains but was simply too confused to come to any sort of result. He barely noticed the wizards all around him getting to their feet and leaving the room one after the other. It was only when Hermione hugged him that he startled from his thoughts.

"Goodbye, Ron. We'll be back in two weeks. Please take care; and look at the closet and that room, okay?" she lovingly whispered in his ear.

Ron graced her with a dull look. "Hermione, why did you betray me?"

He saw her face twisting painfully for a moment, sorrow in its every line. "I never meant to betray you, Ron. It is us that betrayed Harry. But he is giving us a chance to make up for it. Please try to understand him. For me?"

Ron opened his mouth for a scathing reply, but the pleading look from his girlfriend's moist eyes stopped him. "Has he really not hurt you?" he asked instead.

Hermione smiled sadly. "He showed me the truth. That hurt. But no, he never physically harmed me. And it is good that I now know what is going on inside him. I cannot ask your forgiveness, Ron, for I know how hard it is to live here. But I beg you to look at the things I asked you to.

"Harry is not like you think. If you can understand that, maybe you will also see why I stand by him. Think back to our first years at school, Ron! He was not play-acting when he preferred your friendship over Malfoy's, back then. He did not expect your rescue mission the following holidays, so he could not have been acting then, either. Remember, Ron! The 'evil, crazy new Dark Lord' the Daily Prophet is making him out to be does not exist! I hope that one day, you will be able to believe me."

With these words, Hermione ended the hug and left the living room. Ron remained behind, on his knees in the middle of the room, a thoughtful and very lost expression in his misty, pinched eyes.

* * *

Harry, still wearing a shit-eating grin, and a rather confused Draco had a long conversation that evening about the nature of their relationship.

* * *

_******* _

_**A/N:** I still think the scene with the curse is the most amusing if it is left to the reader to imagine what Harry says to Draco here, but since several of my German readers requested a fill for that scene, I eventually gave in and wrote one. Here's what Harry might have said (he's so mean...): _

 

"I know you want me," Harry seductively whispered in Draco's ear.

"You want to take me... to own me... I belong to you, Draco..."

The words and Harry's hand, which had sneaked under Draco's robe unnoticed by everyone else and was now wreaking havoc in his pants, earned Harry Draco's undivided attention.

"...want to pin me down on that desk right here and now and make me moan... I may be the Lord of the Snakes, but you, Draco, you are my Master... I want to know that I am yours, Draco..."

Harry's doe eyes suddenly changed.

"But how do I know you're strong enough? That you can give me what I need? Maybe you are not strong enough at all to assert yourself against me..."

The hand withdrew.

"I don't know if I want you tonight, Draco... Maybe you are so weak that my words will deter you... Maybe you just don't cut it... If I lie before you, tied up and helpless, and _obviously_ want you to take me... and then I ask you to please untie me and go to sleep... What will you do then, Draco? What will you do?"

_Then I'll show you who's boss, damn you! Weak, me?? I'll make you regret...!_

_***_

_(And for the continuation of this scene, look above to where Draco makes liberal use of that bucket.)_


	16. Snake Pit and Privet Drive

_Когда переехал не помню_  
_Haверное был я пухой_  
_Mой aдpec нe дoм и нe улицa_  
_Mой aдpec ceвoдня тaкой..._

_~Лeнингpaд, 'WWW'_

* * *

 

"Я иду, ты идиoшь, oн идиoт - "

"Monsieur Potter, zis ees not right! It 'as to be a short 'o', _idjot_ , 'e walks', not _idioot_ , you do not want to be insulting people, do you?"

Monsieur Rémy-Alexejevic, the French Russian teacher, threw up his hands in despair.

Harry sheepishly sunk down in his chair, while Draco, Zoltan and Hermione giggled around him. They all knew Harry had never excelled as a student - he always had too many other things on his mind (and to be fair, how could he not, when every single dark wizard was out for his life and the majority of the light wizards for his autograph, his innocence - or his life, as well?)

At school, he had worked through every single course book from cover to cover out of pure boredom during his last year, achieving more than just tolerable grades. But now, for the first time ever, he had a real _life,_ entirely worth living, and thus he had reverted to his study habits from the earlier Hogwarts years. In other words: he did not study enough, tried to copy his homework from Hermione and it took Hermione and Draco teaming up on him to make him study vocab.

At the end of class, his head was spinning. Who ever claimed that Russian was a hard language? Just try and find so many soft sounds in another language! But it was _hard_ , no discussion there. The pronunciation was anathema to him.

Harry's pronunciation had always been a weakness with his spell work, too. When he and Draco had learned from Severus that incantations and fancy wand work merely served to focus magical energy, but tended to be dismissed by strong wizards with sufficient powers of concentration, well it had not helped further Harry's endeavours towards a better pronunciation.

But foreign languages were different. No matter how much he concentrated, his counterpart was still not going to get his meaning unless he clearly articulated each word. _How could wizards ever have considered themselves superior? Where Muggles constantly have to deal with this international linguistic chaos... And to think languages are obligatory in many schools!_

Harry's respect for Muggle schools had grown considerably since he'd started learning Russian and French.

Draco walked along quietly by his side. Both were so lost in their thoughts they only noticed the dog running towards them at full speed when, with sliding paws and a short yip, it came to a panting stop right at their feet.

"Sirius! What is the matter?"

"We finally did it!" the animagus rejoiced even before he had fully transformed back to human. From his slowly receding dog snout, the words had an odd yipping-snarling quality. Harry would have laughed had his godfather not been so completely hyper.

"Sirius, what are you doing here? If anyone notices you are in contact with us..."

"That's by the by. Harry, Harry! We've finally got him!"

"You got whom?"

"Don't tell me the Aurors have already joined the 'mysterious' Black Snakes to the last man?" Draco interjected.

"No, no," Sirius carelessly waved the question aside, as though compared to his news, seizing the ministry was about as important as a tea cosy compared to the golden snitch. "No, a ton better: Harry, Moody has captured Wormtail!"

Harry froze.

For a moment, he looked at his godfather with eyes wide open. Then he suddenly grabbed Draco, who squeaked in a surprised - and decidedly un-Malfoy-like - fashion, and twirled him around, emitting a wild howl of joy.

"Draco, finally, _finally_ someone I can take revenge against without anything holding me back! Hurray!"

His head flew around and his eyes bored into his godfather's. "Sirius, who has him? The ministry or us?"

Sirius beamed, though there were some hard lines around his mouth that portended nothing good for the rat animagus. "Us."

* * *

_That same day at Number Four, Privet Drive_

"Boy, where are you?!" Vernon's enraged voice boomed through the house.

"Don't," Petunia interfered. She exited the kitchen and put a hand on her husband's arm. Vernon looked at her, surprised. Since when did his wife speak up for the freak?

"Harry has left him to me for another two weeks, but only on the condition that he be allowed to look at how the boy lived, here. When he's in the old room or under the stairs, we are to leave him be, otherwise Harry will come and get him early, and maybe take revenge on us later..."

Vernon huffed, but was forced to agree with his wife. Harry Potter was dangerous, and if that dark wizard had commanded them to let the boy sniff around, there was nothing to be done. He reluctantly returned to his bedroom to choose another tie. Let the boy iron the blue one some other time.

Ron was sitting in a corner of the smallest bedroom on the upper floor, staring at the wall beneath the window. His eyes were glued to a shoe print right below the window sill, as well as a tiny brown stain on the wall next to the window. Dudley had been in earlier that morning and had readily told him that 'the other freak' had been bleeding from a scratch where Vernon had hit him, as he tried to jump out of the window. No matter what Mrs. Dursley did, the blood stains would not come out of the wallpaper.

Dudley had then started eyeing Ron up and giving him an evil grin. But just when Ron was beginning to feel really threatened, the fat youth clasped a hand in front of his mouth and ran off to the bathroom. Ron could hear from afar that the other noisily ruminated his lunch. With a quick, grateful smirk, Ron sank back into his thoughts.

He knew that powerful wizards were prone to flinging wild magic around in times of great stress, but only when thoroughly enraged or afraid. He stared at the tiny footprint. Potter could not have been older than six. Why such fear? Had he really tried to jump out of the window while injured?

Ron had no doubt that Hermione was far more intelligent than he. She had struggled for a long time against the idea that her friend Harry might have turned away from the light, and had only agreed with him in the end because she loved Ron and did not want to risk their relationship. If she had now changed her mind, could it be she had found proof? She'd never been one for flippancy and hasty decisions. What if the Dursleys truly had not treated Harry any better than him?

Lost in his thoughts, Ron stood up and returned downstairs on quiet feet, taking care not to draw attention to himself. For a long moment, he just stood in front of the tiny cupboard under the stairs, considering it sceptically. Surely they would not have put a boy into a tiny cupboard like that? That cupboard might measure a meter and a half length-wise, with a depth of less than a meter. A ten year-old already would not have fit.

A normal ten year-old.

Harry though had always been conspicuously petit and only started growing at Hogwarts. And, Ron now remembered, his colour had also improved while at Hogwarts. When they had first met on the platform, the little boy had been white as a sheet, like he had spent his life until now away from the sun.

Slowly, Ron pulled the cupboard door open, unsure if he really wanted to know what lay on the other side.

The previous day, Mrs. Dursley had told him when asked that she had wanted to throw out the cupboard once Potter had gotten the room, but it refused to be dismantled. "The freak must have done something to it," she had pronounced darkly. Harry had not been allowed to do magic outside of school, back then, and so the cupboard had stayed. They did not want to store anything in it, though, for fear the cupboard might do strange things to their property.

Ron had deduced that the cupboard must still be in the same state as it had been seven years ago.

A thin ray of light fell through the open cupboard door. Ron looked inside and - his breath caught. In front of him lay a tiny, worn and scuffed mattress. A thin, faded blanket was wedged into one corner. There was no pillow to be seen. Three little shelves stuck out from the cupboard wall on one side.

Ron inquisitively went to inspect them, when a fat, black spider crawled out of the middle shelf. He beat a hasty retreat. From a safe distance, he once more considered the space. There was hardly anything besides the 'bed', if you could even call it that.

No light, no books or toys, no clothes. Of course, Harry would have taken those along when he moved to the upstairs room. _If he actually ever owned toys._

Ron shuddered. He was just about to close the cupboard door again when his gaze fell upon a dark stain in one corner of the cupboard. What had Hermione said? His loneliness and his attempts to escape had left traces?

'Attempts to escape'... By that she must have meant the stains below the upstairs window, which pointed towards a suicide attempt. Loneliness... He bent down, curiosity overcoming his fear of the spiders that might come roping down from the ceiling. He had seen and felt - he shuddered - too many spiders during these last few weeks to ever again scream at the mere sight of a few domestic spiders like he used to.

The dark stain on the back wall of the cupboard turned out to be a tiny finger painting. It was done entirely in a dark, rusty red colour; Ron wondered whether Harry had stolen some crayons from his cousin, or if... Better not to go there.

A few stains of a similar colour on the mattress right underneath the picture caused Ron to shudder again.

The picture itself showed a sun. Underneath it was as stick figure with a large belly, surrounded by a bunch of other stick figures. Very tiny, next to them, a house had been drawn. Inside the house was one more stick figure. It looked different from the rest. Ron examined it more closely. When he realized just what was different about this stick figure, a lump formed in his stomach.

This stick figure wore an awkwardly sketched pair of glasses, covering up nearly the entire face. There was no room for a mouth, leaving this figure the only one without an exaggerated, wide smile. This face was completely expressionless.

Ron stared at the tiny picture. His thoughts were racing. Could all this still be just for show? Why should Potter invest so much effort into the smallest details, just to trick him? When he could just as easily have killed him... What was in it for him?

Ron was abruptly torn from his pondering when the cupboard started shaking. Little specks of dust whirled around, a spider fell from the ceiling and landed on Ron's nose.

"Waaaah!" He jumped back and slammed the door shut.

Dudley appeared next to him, having just descended the stairs. "Don't get your knickers in a twist," he said nonchalantly, "I didn't even stomp."

Ron's eyes upon hearing that were disbelieving. "Is that what you usually do?"

Dudley grinned smugly. "Not any more, but when the freak still lived with us, I never took the stairs as quietly as today."

Ron closed his eyes and tried very hard not to think of dozens of falling spiders.

* * *

Petunia opened the door with an aggrieved face. Now Harry was back and about to take away her precious household help (after more than two months, he barely made any mistakes.) It was a shame.

Sighing, she admitted Harry; he was followed by several wizards wearing black robes along with strange bandanas and sunglasses. The tall wizard from earlier carried a bundle of dirty rags across his shoulders. Petunia sniffed disdainfully, which earned her an amused grin from her black-robed guests. Behind that man entered the girl Petunia remembered well from the freaks' last visit. She looked thoughtful and a little nervous.

After everyone had settled down in the living room, Petunia called for the boy. He arrived in the living room in record time, as though he'd been just waiting to be called. Indeed, Ron had once again been contemplating the painting in the cupboard corner which little Harry must have completed using his own blood for paint.

Ron entered the living room and his gaze immediately went to Harry. For a long time, he stared into the dark-haired youth's eyes which looked back at him calmly, but unreadable. Finally, Ron turned around and looked at the other people gathered in the room. Many had taken off their sunglasses so he could recognize their faces.

Harry had sat down on top of Malfoy once again. On the sofa were Remus and Sirius. Snape was leaning in a corner of the room, a pile of rags on the floor beside him. Seated on the same stool as two weeks ago was Hermione who was assessing him with a penetrating gaze. He looked into her eyes.

"Hermione, is this really not a bad joke?"

The young woman slowly shook her head.

Ron turned around to face Mr. and Mrs. Dursley who were standing uncertainly at the living room door, nervously eyeing the gathered wizarding folk.

"Evil brutes," Ron spat at them. "Child haters. Unscrupulous vermin. You are despicable!"

While red colour was quickly infusing every inch of Vernon's face and considerable, pudgy throat, Ron turned back towards the wizards. His eyes once more came to rest on Harry who was still sitting in his Malfoy-cussioned armchair looking calm and emotionless. Suddenly, though, his eyebrows furrowed, the wand jumping into his hand as though of its own volition, and he hissed a Parsel curse.

Ron closed his eyes in terror. Until he heard a quiet _'Donk.'_ from behind. He turned around and took a hasty step backwards upon finding a snake on the floor behind him. An unusually thick snake...

"Aunt, you would please me very much by leaving us alone for a while," Harry's cold voice said. With another wave of his wand, the snake turned back into Vernon Dursley. The man confusedly lowered the hand with which he'd been about to hit the boy in front of him.

The wizards around the room grinned, some laughed scornfully. Intimidated and afraid for her husband's life and health, Petunia quickly pulled Vernon from the room and closed the door on the way out.

"Well, Ronald," the 'dark lord' now addressed him. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Ron was squirming under the weight of the spectators' gazes. He felt exposed. But he knew precisely what he had to do. As Hermione had predicted, there was in fact a rhyme and reason to his suffering. He understood that now. Still...

"Was there no easier way to show me that I had fucked things up?"

The other kept looking at him expressionlessly for another long moment. Then he started laughing softly along with all the other wizards. "Ron, I'm glad you finally get it. Welcome aboard!"

Hermione had jumped to her feet and hurried towards her boyfriend. With a beaming smile, she now hugged him.

"By the way, yes," Harry amended, "there was another way that would have been a lot easier for me. Not for you, though. Just ask Hermione."

Ron gave his girlfriend a curious look, but she waved him off with a smile and a murmured "Later." Out loud, she added: "Harry, don't you want to show Ron what Alastor found last week?"

Puzzled, Ron watched Harry walk over to the pile of rags in the corner, murmuring a spell, and when nothing happened, kicking the pile with his foot.

A soft moan sounded and the pile shook.

Ron wanted to turn away in disgust - _Hermione must have been mistaken! This is not the Harry we used to know!_ \- when the piteous humanoid rag doll raised its head and Ron recognized -

"Pettigrew!"

"The very same," Harry confirmed. "Ron, how do you think the rat will like living with my relatives?"

Ron looked at Harry with his jaw hanging open. He blinked. The other still stood in front of him, one eyebrow raised questioningly in a rather Slytherin manner.

"No shit?"

"Nope."

Ron started to grin. It felt strange, probably because he'd never before had reason for such a nasty grin. "Oh, I think this is just the place for him... Say, Hermione, couldn't you remove that spell from Dudley?"

"Ron!" She walloped him a good one with her wand, making him see stars. "Not even to the worst enemies...!"

He looked down at the floor bashfully. "You're right of course, sorry." That earned him a tight, warm hug from his girlfriend. Merlin, had he missed this!

However... "Harry, he is too big to comfortably push around."

Harry contemplated the trembling animagus.

"Give me just a moment," Remus Lupin intervened.

"R-r-remus, w-w-what are you g-going t-t-to do?" Pettigrew squeaked.

The werewolf bared his teeth. "I am going to adapt your outer appearance to your mental age. _Juvenis!_ "

Pettigrew shrank. Wrinkles smoothed out, hair grew back in... And in front of them stood a pudgy little boy with fly-away hair and very prominent teeth.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I don't know about this... we can't really leave a ten-year-old with these people, can we?"

Remus grinned. "Hermione, if this spell could truly de-age a person, wizards would be as good as immortal! But we aren't. The spell merely changes his outer appearance; underneath that, he is still the same ugly, evil old rat."

"I see." Hermione paid no further mind to the little boy and instead dedicated her entire attention to Ron.

Not much later, the group of wizards left the Dursley residence. No-one noticed Sirius, the last person to leave, look around searchingly in the hall until he spied Dudley in the kitchen, and waving his wand with a quiet murmur: " _Finite_ _Incantatem._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess that last line makes this easily the most evil chapter of this fanfic... *hides*
> 
> ETA ~~17.04.2016: I've disabled anonymous comments for this fic.~~ \-- Reversed, 03.01.2017. Feel free to comment. ; )


	17. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fought with this chapter. A lot. It's got puns and a song - seriously hard to translate. Please don't be too harsh if the final English wording appears less than stellar. I tried.

**Chapter 17: London**

_My world's on fire_  
_How about yours?_  
_That's the way I like it and I never get bored_

_\- All Star by Smash Mouth_

* * *

"All present? Terrific, grab a hold!" Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lost-It, new Dark Lord and secret Lord of the Snakes, was standing in his headquarters' living room holding up a frisbee.

Severus Snape looked at him suspiciously. "Harry, you do not seriously expect me to take hold of this entirely tasteless Muggle toy, do you?"

"But Severus," Harry teased him, "we are about to take over the English government, that has to be done in _style_!"

Scattered laughter sounded, but it was almost entirely buried underneath the sounds of nervous shuffling and whispering. Harry turned towards his friends and let his eyes roam from person to person. "I am serious about this, you know."

"Serious, you?" Draco lovingly questioned while wrapping one arm around his boyfriend's hips.

Harry favoured him with a mischievous smirk. "I am serious about the fact that this _must not_ be serious. Hey, there's only twenty of us, and we are going to storm the Ministry which currently ought to harbour at least an equal number of Order members, as well as some fifty Aurors. _Seriousness_ is the _last_ thing we need today!" He merrily grinned at the assembled Snakes.

If at all possible, the nervousness in the room climbed even higher after that speech. Harry rolled his eyes. "Folks, please don't do that. If things go south, you can always escape back here with the help of your portkeys. Lose that tension! We are harmless, a joke, a good show! There's not reason at all to stop us! So don't look like cattle heading for the slaughterhouse, alright?

"...You know what? Form a circle!"

Unsure what he intended to do, the twenty witches and wizards followed his orders.

"Raise your wand and point it at your right-hand neighbour."

Some hesitated, but in the end, everyone complied.

"Great. And now repeat after me, together: _Iocundus!_ On the count of three: one, two, three-"

_"Iocundus!!!"_ , twenty voices intoned.

"That's the spirit."

* * *

It was a strange procession moving down Diagon Alley that morning. Roughly two dozen people wearing black robes, dark Muggle glasses covering their faces and strange ribbons wrapped around their foreheads, carrying protest signs with slogans such as:

_"Hot Fudge is bad for your health!"_

_"The Ministry is sick! We'll pull the rotten tooth! For equality! Fairness! And Cheese Cake!"_

_"Here goes the Snake - slither along!"*_

On their shoulders, they were carrying a flashy, green snake plush toy measuring five meters in length, whose enchanted eyes were madly rolling around in their sockets.

More and more people exited the shops, paused, then followed along. Demonstrations were literally unheard-of in the wizarding world, this was entirely unprecedented.

People had heard about the Black Snakes. Fudge had not managed to keep it a secret that the Aurors were wasting their time looking for the escaped and ever since vanished from the public eye - along with his entire cohort - Boy-Who-Lost-It, while others did the important work, namely catching the Death Eaters still at large, protecting people, and even finalizing economic agreements with other countries.

Ever since Rita Skeeter's crushing article about the Aurors' idleness, which had earned her an instant dismissal from the Daily Prophet, people were keen on anything the woman wrote like never before. The publisher with whom she had started her own newspaper, with the financial and political backing of every influential member of the Black Snakes, had been declared the most successful start-up of the year, making more profits than any single company in wizarding London ever managed in a similar time span before.

People still read the Daily Prophet, but the 'Silver Mirror', Rita's new paper, was steadily gaining popularity and renown. The paper was not crazy at all, but rather serious and very correct indeed, printing all those articles that were forbidden to the Prophet by the Ministry. Of course, the commentary section still offered an abundance of articles in Rita's unique sharp-tongued, lurid style.

Every other day, they featured articles detailing events of the past twenty years, ranging from unjustified arrests over misleading reports on the goings-on inside Hogwarts to, again and again, incorrect decisions made by the Ministry. The dirty laundry of the leaders of the wizarding world was being aired, where it was met by the wizarding public with rising anger.

People were not amused that the Ministry had bent the truth in such a creative number of ways.

Rita had also managed, without ever directly addressing his story, to weave Harry into the articles in casual asides in such a way as to present him in a thoroughly positive light. It was the same technique she had used in Harry's fifth year to implant the idea in her readers' heads that Harry was a dangerous crazy; and just like they did back then, people followed where she led.

Wizards and witches muttered less deprecations about the 'new dark lord', instead the voices questioning the Ministry's politics grew increasingly louder. People were no longer willing to take information disseminated by the Ministry at face value. Not after one of the Daily Prophet's top reporters had disclosed how she herself had helped manipulate public opinion on the Ministry's orders.

One of the most burning questions being asked these days around Diagon Alley and beyond concerned the goals and location of the man who was now referred to as the Boy-who-lived once more. The others addressed the Black Snakes: Who were they? What were their plans? Who was their leader?

The air was abuzz with speculation, fuelled and guided by those members of the Snakes who could openly show their faces in public, such as Luna and the various Aurors. Everyone was impatiently waiting for the day the Black Snakes would show the world their true colours. Why did they remain hidden? Did the organization that hunted down Death Eaters and spoke up for international understanding and the equality of all magical beings hide any deep, dark secrets? Or was it more the individual members who preferred to remain hidden? And if so – why?

The answers had always remained a puzzle.

Yet all of a sudden, here they were, this group of wizards and witches who called themselves the Black Snakes. They did not seem dangerous; much to the contrary, the twenty witches and wizards were laughing as though they'd fallen prey to some over-dosed cheering charms. (No-one suspected that that was, in fact, precisely what had happened.)

The frontmost wizard wore a beret pulled deeply into his face, making it impossible to guess his identity. Could this be their leader...?

Said wizard now raised his head, granting the spectators a clear view of his lips, stretched in a wide, mischievous grin, that slowly opened to emit a burst of loud, off-key song**:

_"We from the blue-ridged mountains came, you see  
Our teacher, he is just as dumb as we -"_

"Hey!" a tall, dark-haired wizard behind him cried out in protest. The wizards around the two only laughed louder.

_"- With those glasses large and sunny he looks like the easter bunny  
We from the blue-ridged mountains came, you see!"_

At these verses, the man with the hat had transfigured the sunglasses of the sulky man behind him into a pair of huge, horn-rimmed specs, complete with a set of rosy-coloured plush bunny ears. The tall, dark-haired man threw his arms up, then with a resigned sigh he conjured a carrot for himself and started nibbling it absent-mindedly – even he was much too cheerful to get truly angry about the obviously younger wizards' pranks.

Now the brunette witch between the two started singing. Due to her sunglasses and a black bandanna embroidered with a red raven, her identity was not easily guessed; the gathered passers-by did note her clear singing voice, though.

_"We from Northern Europe came to see_  
_The Ministry is dumb, you will agree_  
_We are here to watch it fall_  
_End that suffering for all_  
_Hello London, hello Britain, here are we!"_

The wide-eyed audience gasped in surprise. Had this young witch truly just declared this hodgepodge troupe of... clowns... intended to topple the Ministry?

...Probably part of the show. Yes, that must be it: They were a group of actors advertising their show. Nobody could be so naïve as to try and attack the Ministry with a handful of half- or untrained witches and wizards.

Right?

Though they did look rather crazy...

People gathered ever closer around the strange procession with the plush snake. When another member of the troupe started to sing, a boy this time who remained somewhat hidden behind the previous singers, with only a few strands of blond hair flashing through now and then, they hung onto his every word as though enchanted.

_"We from the same old circles hail, it's true_  
_Yet we see the world much different, me and you._  
_Come storm the Ministry with us,_  
_Hear through Serumed Truth, no fuss_  
_When Fudge's nasty lies will get their due."_

The crowd had grown to unstoppable proportions on its slow, but steady waltz towards the far end of Diagon Alley, which held the High Day Entrance to the Ministry. The huge portals were only opened for special occasions and led directly into the several miles removed large interior courtyard of the Ministry. The crowd did not worry about how the Black Snakes intended to open the gates; they felt sure, just by looking at this group, that no obstacle would impede their procession from entering the courtyard. Maybe today was the day some of their century's greatest mysteries were resolved.

_"We from far-off lands came to this shore,_  
_yet all of us have been here once before._  
_The truth you've always worked to bend,_  
_You have struck the innocent -_  
_Tough luck, we'll let your terror reign no more!"_

Harry sang with a wide grin stretched across his face. Hermione had been one of the few with the discipline not to overdose her cheering charm from nerves, yet still he was as carefree and boisterous as everyone else. Their plans were proving successful; unless he'd made a grave error of judgement somewhere along the line, close to ninety percent of the Ministry workers would come over to their side with flying colours as soon as they showed themselves.

He happily raised his eyes to look at the Hungarian Horntail majestically circling above their group, directed by none other than Charlie Weasley, who had finally called back in a week ago and, following a long discussion, had agreed to join Harry.

Not so his brother. Bill had been devastated to see what had become of his mother since Harry had started decimating their family. He had stared at Harry with rage and spat that he was prepared to fight the Snakes with everything he had to take vengeance for what they had done to his mother.

Bill and Molly Weasley had spent the past four days together at the Burrow, licking each other's wounds. Harry had to admit that at their last meeting, a week ago, Mrs. Weasley had looked a hair's breath away from utter madness, so he could well understand Bill's decision. Still he had no use for enemies at this point in time, so he had locked Mrs. Weasley and her enraged, loyal son in the Burrow with a ban. Once the political situation had changed to suit him, he would release the ban and see how they dealt with the new world order.

He was confident that, sooner or later, the Weasley family would reconcile and grow back together.

And he was content.

His rage at Molly Weasley may have been the original motivation for his campaign, but over the weeks and months, his goals had gradually shifted; not personal revenge was his primary concern nowadays, but justice for all. He knew he had set his goals dauntingly high, but the group of people that surrounded him all put their whole-hearted support behind him, making him confident they could meet that challenge. For a large part of his life, he had not had a single person who trusted and believed in him; and now he had an entire horde!

His eyes followed the poster attached to the long, dangerous tail of the dragon a while longer ( _"Today: Storming the Ministry! - Premiere!"_ ) before leaving the Horntail; turning his head slightly, his gaze fell upon Severus and Draco.

Had these Slytherins not been there for him those last couple of years, who knew what would have become of him? Harry suffered no illusions here. Ron and Hermione would not have been able to support him the way the sombre potions master with the dry wit or his slightly narcissist, yet resourceful and self-assured blond classmate had done.

Without them and the rest of their cohort - Pansy, Blaise, Zoltan, Millie, and later, some Gryffindors, as well - maybe he'd be lying in a dark corner of Magnolia Crescent with slitted wrists; or rotting in Azkaban for reaching the end of his rope and murdering the Dursleys in a fit of rage; or maybe Voldemort would have found him and he would have been slaughtered due to his lack of knowledge about the Dark Arts...

Countless scenarios ran through his head, yet what would have thoroughly depressed him mere months before now only caused him to smile contentedly. None of that would happen now, for he had finally found what he had been subconsciously searching for his whole life: A family.

_Ugh, how sentimental_ , Harry finally thought and pushed the rosy clouds from his head. _It's a good thing Voldemort is dead already, I would sink through the floor in embarrassment if anyone had read those thoughts..._

"Oh Snake Lord, feeling sentimental?" he suddenly heard a dark, silky voice from behind him.

"Severus!!! Don't tell me you listened in?" _Damn that Legilimens!_

The older wizard just smirked and nimbly side-stepped the punch the affronted youth aimed in his direction. "Now don't be hotheaded. That does not befit a serious diplomat."

"Since when have I been serious?!"

"Ever since you negotiated the terms for opening a WWW branch in Paris. I seem to remember the Weasley twins nearly fainting upon seeing you take charge of their business with naught but a charming smile; the French Ministry's business attaché did seem to consider you a serious negotiator... And this resulted in a source of capital financing roughly seventy percent of our headquarters' expenses. I do believe I have reason to accuse you of a certain seriousness."

Severus watched with great amusement as, with an appalled groan, his unofficial adoptive son hid his face in his hands in mock-despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In German, there's a pun in this one: "Schlange stehen", literally "standing a snake", means "to line up". I found no way to translate "Hier geht die Schlange - stellt euch an!" into something equally amusing. :/
> 
> **This part was even harder to translate. It's a German children's song (melody borrowed from an American folk song, I believe) that sounds something like [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9S4dxGcqas) which children like to invent their own new stanzas to, usually poking fun at their teachers. Translating it would not give the impression of "a song that everyone knows since they were children themselves and that usually conveys scorn for the established hierarchy in amusing ways", so I tried to find one that serves the same purpose in Britain; only my knowledge of the Isles and their culture simply doesn't quite cut it. In the end, I was stuck with just translating what I had. Again, sorry for the mediocre translation.


	18. Ministry of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the dark wizards and their history mentioned in this chapter are entirely made up. This was written long before The Deathly Hallows, and thus Dumbledore and Grindlewald's history, hit the book shops. 
> 
> Warning: OOC behaviour from several characters, especially Severus (even more than in the previous chapter, so please take this warning seriously.) Also, if you get bored by Harry's speech, feel free to skim or skip. :P

_"There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other"  
\- Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling_

* * *

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, leafing through his Aurors' notes for the umpteenth time. They had searched all corners of Great Britain, but there was not a single trace of the Boy-who-damn-well-remained-hidden to be found. What was he supposed to do now? He knew that Potter held a personal grudge against him and likely was planning his destruction this very moment. Yet how was he to stop him if he did not even know where that Merlin-be-damned dark wizard even _was_?

Cornelius needed coffee, he had a headache. "Witherby!" he yelled irritably. Then he remembered that the boy had resigned several weeks ago. Apparently he'd had a falling out with his father and left the family. Though what that fight had been about, he had not been able to find out from either of the two men.

A tumult in front of his window pulled his attention to the inner courtyard. A steep line formed on his forehead. The Ministry was built far below the surface of Muggle London and the view from the windows was dictated daily by the weather Magi. The meeting place in the courtyard did not even exist on regular week days, it was only anchored in reality when there was an important public assembly for which the Ministry's atrium did not offer sufficient space.

However, there were certainly no award ceremonies or public trials planned, nor had he authorized any kind of public rally. What was happening in his Ministry?

Cornelius watched incredulously as the heavy portal to Diagon Alley at the opposite end of the courtyard was opened by invisible hands and a colourful, loud, and apparently happy mass of wizards crowded inside.

"By Scylla and Charybdis, what is this?!?"

As he stepped out onto the western balcony, a group of some twenty oddly dressed wizards with... a toy snake?! - had claimed the platform on the east side, gathering around a veiled wizard who was just now speaking a _Sonorus_ and addressing the gathered wizards and witches of London.

One after the other, nearly the entire Ministry staff gathered in the courtyard and on the surrounding balconies. Cornelius was startled to see that even the Unspeakables had gathered in a corner of the courtyard. On the northern balcony, accessible from the top levels but still dead level with the other balconies, even those belonging to the lowest levels, he spied a growing number of Aurors.

There were many; if he didn't know better, he'd say roughly four dozen. But that was impossible - three quarters of his fighting forces were supposed to be out of town, looking for Potter... Or had they come in just for this day? Cornelius considered the people around him and got the unsettling impression that few amongst them seemed as confused as he was, nearly as though everyone but him had known of today's assembly long since. Fear was beginning to gnaw at him. Just what was going on here?

"Welcome, witches and wizards of London! A heart-felt welcome also to the friendly reporters from all over Europe!" With horror, Cornelius recognized the little group claiming the front rows of the gathered crowd, armed with cameras and notepads and following the speaker's every word with waving feathers.

"Today is a historical day and I am sure you are all just as excited as I am to see which direction England will go from here.

"Members of the British wizarding society! It has been years since the Ministry made any useful decisions. Your children are raised at school on incomplete or faulty information, old prejudices are being nourished and fortified, ancient enmities are held in high esteem like treasures. Set that grey matter to work! In conditions like these, it is no wonder that for the past three hundred years, there has been one dark lord after the other!

"Before Voldemort -" Murmurs and gasps shot up from the crowd. "No, but look at yourselves! Afraid of a name, really? How do you think you can fight something if you cannot even speak its true name? ...As I was saying, before Voldemort, there was Grindelwald, before Grindelwald there was a dark wizard named Sophares, before Sophares we had Lydicum, before Lydicum... you get my drift?"

Cornelius did not want to believe his ears: The man _giggled_!

"If we wish to escape this circle of rise and fall (or natural death) of one dark lord after the other, we need CHANGES! Have you never wondered that maybe all those wizards had their _reasons_ for fighting the Ministry?

"Sophares was a vampire who, due to Ministerial restrictions, could not get a job; Lydicum had a werewolf brother who was murdered in one of the Ministry's "purges". Archired was gay. There once was a dark lady, as well - Iridiana,who had wrongfully been imprisoned for twenty years in Azkaban before that mistake was discovered by accident.

"Voldemort had grown up in a Muggle orphanage where he learned to hate Muggles - had the wizarding society taken better care of this orphan, maybe he would never had grown so hateful. Grindelwald... well, I admit that although I did my homework, I could find no further motivation for this wizard. It appears he simply was that crazy.

"Still, there is a pattern to the backgrounds of most wizards and witches that stood against wizarding society: nearly all of them were exiles, belonging to one of the discriminated and neglected minorities.

"Did you know there is a potion called Wolfsbane that allows a werewolf a painless transformation into a harmless wolf on any full moon night? Werwolves no longer need to be dangerous. Then why are they, still? The potion is not publicly available. The Ministry does not believe that a werewolf can ever be harmless and disseminates that credo, making it impossible for werewolves to find social acceptance - instead of helping them. Most wizards would go out of their way to avoid a known werewolf even on a new moon night! Ridiculous!

"If we remain this narrow-minded and conservative, wizards will always find reason to turn their backs on wizarding society or actively fight it. We have to change in order to put an end to this!

"Some countries have made changes that make us look like the back-end of the most remote backwaters. In Romania, vampires have been fully integrated into society for more than a hundred years; in the Americas, there is a society for the preservation of werewolf rights that has successfully sued countless companies for discriminating against werewolf job applicants.

"The French have an exemplary judiciary system that would never allow for a wrongful conviction of the type that is the norm here in no less than - and this is a hard fact - _15%_ of the cases! We have access to Veritaserum, why aren't we using it? Why is the accused barred from even defending themselves in one in two cases?

"The current Ministry has made the largest amount of wrongful convictions in the history of magical British governments! I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that it is past time for some changes!

"While the remaining Death Eaters are still causing mayhem since the fall of Voldemort this past summer, the Minister is keeping the Aurors busy looking for the former Boy-Who-Lived, now better named the Boy-Who-Is-Conspicuously-Absent. You know, one question that I have often been asked by foreign wizards is why we are so focused on capturing and controlling the one wizard who finally saved Britain from Voldemort; do we not trust him?

"I was forced to answer that he is generally thought to be insane by the witches and wizards of Great Britain. Maybe a few of you remember the Bulgarian National Team's seeker, Victor Krum? He told me in a recent conversation that he by no means believed Potter to be insane. If the saviour of wizarding Britain had a few idiosyncratic mannerism, that wasn't all that surprising considering his biography; yet if he were a Bulgarian, he'd still be praised for his accomplishments - and not hunted like a criminal to be locked up against his will in an asylum. I have to admit I was a bit embarrassed when I couldn't even tell him _why_ Potter was thought to be insane..."

"Because he's gone dark!" Fudge bellowed angrily, no longer willing to quietly listen to this nonsense. "That boy is a danger to us all!"

The wizard on the platform looked up at him and Fudge thought he felt a piercing gaze focus on him from underneath the beret. "A danger, is he now? And here I was thinking he'd been treated at St. Mungo's for his own benefit. What a silly mistake on my part."

The wizards in the courtyard got visibly agitated, murmuring or loudly discussing amongst themselves and throwing suspicious glances at the minister. Could Rita Skeeter have been right in claiming that the minister'd had Potter admitted due to personal enmity rather than for the boy's own best interest?

"Minister," the podium speaker's voice rang out, silencing the masses, "could you possibly enlighten us about the reasons behind the hunt for Potter?"

Fudge flushed brightly and threw an angry glare down at the other wizard. "How dare you question my methods? And anyway, who allowed you to enter the inner courtyard, and what is more, open it to all and sundry and holding a non-sanctioned assembly? I shall -"

_"Silencium!"_

Fudge grasped at his throat; no further sound passed his lips. The tall wizard behind the speaker had hit him with a silencing curse.

The speaker threw him a cheeky grin, then continued his speech.

"Thank you. Well, it appears that Minister Fudge is incapable of answering a simple question; as usual, he bypasses the essential by going off on irrelevant tangents. That is exactly what he has shown in all his political actions these past months: Instead of setting the Aurors the essential task of finding the Death Eaters and protecting the general public, he forces them into a wild goose chase all across Great Britain to capture a wizard who has been lauded as their saviour a very short time ago. What has Potter done to deserve being considered the greater danger while Death Eaters are torturing and killing Muggles and wizards alike?"

He paused, waiting curious for any response from the crowd.

"He killed Ginny Weasley!" the thin voice of a lanky young wizard shouted out.

"Mister Longbottom." The speaker nodded at him. "If you are willing to owl the Head Priestess of Avalon, she will gladly inform you of the progress of her newest novice, one Ginevra Weasley. The girl has joined the virginal priestesses of her own free will at the start of the month.

"And before you ask: Yes, I have met Potter and asked him the same questions, and I had the opportunity to personally verify all his claims. - Auror Shacklebolt," he suddenly addressed one of the Aurors on the balcony, "would you be so kind as to provide me with a flask of Veritaserum? I doubt anyone would trust the dose I brought myself..."

The Auror scrutinized him sharply, but then turned on his heel and vanished into the ministry, returning shortly thereafter with a small phial he hovered down into the courtyard with a murmured spell. The young wizard on the platform snatched the phial from the air and emptied it in one go.

For a moment, he just stood silently; then he turned towards a wizard in the first row: "Please ask me an embarrassing, personal question; something no ordinary wizard would ever freely admit."

The reporter and the other witches and wizards in the courtyard exchanged puzzled glances. Then a voice rang out from amidst the crowd, the wide grin clearly audible in its tone: "You asked for it. So, at what age and how did you first have sex?"

The wizard on the platform pulled his beret down deeply over his eyes; still, everyone could see the bright flush that spread to the tips of his ears. Quietly, yet due to the _Sonorus_ easily audible to everyone in the crowd, he answered: "At age eighteen, with the love of my life, and without use of contraception. But it's been over a month and I am not pregnant, so I suppose we've been lucky."

Silence.

A thousand witches and wizards (and even now, more were crowding inside through the wide-open gate) speechlessly stared at the embarrassed wizard on the podium who was trying to melt through the planks beneath his feet while a wizard behind him softly closed his arms around the young man and pressed a kiss to his neck.

The fierce spokesman for equality and tolerance was gay; somehow, people were not particularly surprised by this turn of events.

One of the wizards gathered on the stage cleared his throat and bent close to the couple who currently held the eyes of the British wizarding world and probably would feature in tomorrow's news of wizarding societies the world over.

The blond young man released the speaker from his embrace and composed himself with a visible effort.

"Um. Yes. Well. After most of you will now believe me when I say this Veritaserum does its job -" he swallowed briefly while some laughter sounded from the crowd - "then, er, we can now continue.

"Um. So. Weasley. Right. As I said before, Ginny Weasley is alive and well, it was her own decision to go to Avalon and I can not confirm the rumours that Harry Potter has touched or cursed her in an inappropriate way - or any way at all. Likewise, before you ask, concerning the rest of the Weasley clan.

"The missing Arthur Weasley as well as the ostensibly dead brothers Ronald, Fred and George Weasley and the equally missing Percy Weasley are alive and have laid to rest their quarrel with Harry Potter. The same is true of Hermione Granger.

"Are there any more accusations against Potter?"

Most of the gathered folk pulled disbelieving faces. "All the Weasleys still alive? And we're supposed to just believe that?" a deep voice rumbled.

One witch and wizard stepped out from the group behind the speaker and took off their bandanas and sunglasses. "Come over and see for yourself if we're real, Hagrid," Hermione called down to the half-giant, for none other had questioned their continued well-being.

"Hermione!!!" The gigantic man pushed his way through the crowd, energetically jumped up onto the stage making it vibrate madly, and pulled the girl and her partner into a fierce hug. They both laughed and returned the open sign of affection.

Hermione pulled Ron and Hagrid to the back corner of the platform, thus returning the crowd's focus to the remarkable speaker who indeed seemed to hold the answers to all the burning questions that plagued all parties following current British events.

"Any more questions or accusations?" he asked with a smile.

An Auror stepped to the front of the balcony and murderously glared down at the young man. "I could care less about what Potter may or may not have done to the Weasleys, boy, but the way he treated Sirius Black is unforgivable! The man may have been an escaped convict, but for one thing, he was recently cleared of all charges; and what is more, he is still Potter's godfather. The boy kept his own godfather prisoner, starving and torturing him for an entire week!"

The crowd reacted with horrified gasps and disappointed glances.

The speaker on the podium sighed. "This one, I can answer, as well. Sirius Black was only kept prisoner for a single day; during that time, he was provided food, however he chose not to eat it. The remainder of the week in question he spent at home, and although you can accuse Potter of not having made sure that his godfather took proper care of himself, he certainly did not prevent him from it. As to the mistreatment, I can say with absolute certainty that the only cruel deed of Potter's toward his godfather was to keep certain truths from him for the duration of that week.

"Which is a lovely example, I believe, of what the ministry is doing to us on a daily basis by withholding important information... Black is entirely recovered, by the way, and certainly willing to answer a few questions of his own about the bad state he was in at the time. I am sure you will be able to find him after this assembly. Then he can tell you himself what had led to his unhealthy demeanour in July. - Anything else on Potter?"

From the left outer edge of the crowd, a strict, no-nonsense voice spoke up. Minerva McGonagall. "How do you know so much about Mr. Potter? Who are you?"

The wizard on the stage only managed to say "I am the leader of the Black Snakes. I am -" before he was hit with multiple _Silencios_ by his followers.

The blond wizard at his side took the floor while their leader seemed torn between killing him with a glare and being grateful for the timely rescue.

"This question, Professor McGonagall, will have to wait a bit longer. Though it will certainly be answered today, I can promise you this much. Is Headmaster Dumbledore present, as well?"

The Transfiguration teacher looked him over appraisingly; she was sure she knew him, yet the wizard's impossible get-up threw her off and kept the knowledge sealed from her. "Professor Dumbledore had to address an emergency at the school and could not personally attend when we got news of the courtyard being opened for an assembly."

_Way to go, Remus,_ Harry thought, trying to suppress his grin. _Diversionary tactic: successful!_ The cheering charm had worn off a while ago, but the thought of Dumbledore being confronted with the impact of the full range of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes' products this very moment cheered him up immensely.

Fudge looked down on the proceedings with mounting distress. Nobody seemed inclined to relieve him of the silencing charm. He had to watch mutely as the "Black Snakes" persuaded the crowd that Potter was harmless. How could people be so naïve as to believe that? Potter was a monster!

While the minister was burning with anger, the blond beside the Snakes' leader calmly and coolly continued speaking. "Our esteemed leader has a way of needlessly drawing things out."

Good-natured laughter sounded from the group, while the spectators below them wondered at the imposing-looking wizard with the beret, who had spoken so fiercely a moment ago, and now was merely smiling, making absolutely no move to punish the verbal attack on his person.

"I shall be brief, then.

"We, the Black Snakes, are an organization unhappy with the current ministry. Our goals are as follows:

1\. A reform of the judiciary system,

2\. A complete overhaul of the school's syllabi and class choices with focus on a more tolerant education geared towards better international relations,

3\. The abolishment of all laws that discriminate against magical minorities,

4\. The appointment of a new minister, not by his predecessor as has been our custom to this day, but by a nation-wide general election."

While discussions bloomed all around the courtyard like a wildfire, the blond took a step back and smiled at his lover. The puzzled and excited, sometimes indignant, sometimes enthusiastic exclamations that echoed back and forth across the courtyard had Fudge quickly losing colour. In a powerful act of despair, he pulled forth a voiceless spell from the most hidden coils and twists of his brain, allowing him some conversation with his subordinates, however indirect.

" _Madam Bones, you will_ immediately _remove this ignominious curse from my person!_ " fell in red letters from the tip of his wand and flew towards the thusly addressed witch, hovering in front of her nose. Amelia Bones blandly considered the minister for a few seconds before casually waving her wand and dissolving the curse.

"About time," Fudge barked. "Why did you not release me any sooner? It is your duty as a member of this ministry -" That was as far as he got. Amelia Bones had continued watching him with that bland face before raising her wand once more and coolly saying: " _Petrificus Totalus."_

The minister went stiff as a plank and fell forward. The banister stopped his fall and he came to rest at a 45 degree angle, still with a wonderful view on the courtyard. Beside him, he heard the voice of his formerly loyal employee: "I have long been bothered by the fact that you always bend the laws to suit you, Fudge. It appears that I was not the only one... I just hope the new ministry will do better."

With these words, she left the speech- and motionless minister to his fate and, like everyone else, crowded closer to the banister facing the platform opposite, trying not to miss a single word from the Snakes.

"It's about time for a few revelations, don't you think?" the blond wizard was asking the leader with the beret. The leader smiled and nodded at him before raising his hands and once more calling the gathered witches and wizards to order.

"Alright people, the moment of truth has arrived," he shouted out with his once more magically enhanced voice. "Many of you have had contact with the Black Snakes these last few weeks, and unless we completely botched this, you should be well-prepared for this present day."

With curious eyes, witches and wizards around the courtyard eyed their neighbours, little glass phials flashing here and there.

"I invite everyone who is sick of Fudge and his despotism to drink with me to a better future! Have you noticed a black phoenix mark on your arm recently? Or are you simply convinced that the wizarding world is not lost yet, if only we finally addressed all of its problems? Or do you just yearn for love, fresh air and cream cake? Whatever the issue, we'll be sure to help!"

Nervous laughter rang out, while witches and wizards all around eyed the about fist-sized phials they had received from various members or supporters of the Black Snakes. Nobody knew what they contained.

"Is this stuff actually harmless?" a young wizard nervously called up to the stage.

The leader of the Black Snakes looked at him with unusual seriousness. "It is harmless. I would never poison another human being, this I swear by my mother's grave!"

A fairly accurate guess as to exactly who that Snake Lord might be was growing amongst those present, yet so far, no-one felt inclined to voice it.

The wizard still concealed underneath his beret now raised his own phial and with his voice ringing clearly across the courtyard, shouted: "To the Snakes! To tolerance! To our future!"

Then he downed the potion.

And wizards and witches around the courtyard followed suit.

While the Unspeakables tossed down their potions with blank, unperturbed countenances to a man, nervous hesitation still ruled the Aurors' balcony. They had not been trained in vain for years to trust no one.

But then Alastor Moody stepped up and under his shocked colleagues' eyes downed his potion in a single, fluid motion. Alastor Moody, firm opponent of Voldemort's and supporter of the Light, a man who had not drunk what he had not personally bottled for years, trusted the Snake Lord enough to accept an unknown potion from him?

In less than a minute, every single Auror in possession of the potion had emptied their phial without reservations.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. People regarded each other, trying to spot the moment the potion took some visible effect.

"The potion you have just consumed is known as Polyjuice," the voice from the podium spoke up once more. Scattered yells of surprise were heard, while many just kept looking at the stage in tense anticipation. For all those who had apparently never heard of the potion, the blond lover of the Snake Lord engaged in a further explanation: "The Polyjuice potion causes you to turn into another person for one hour. Did you not wonder about the identity of our leader? Well, here's a hint for you, then: Look into a mirror."

From every direction, shocked exclamations were heard as people slowly started to transform. Bald heads filled up with dark, wild mops of hair, breasts shrank, scars cropped up all across each body. It was one of these, of course, that confirmed to the crowd what many had already quietly guessed.

"Harry Potter!!!" Quietly at first, then with increasing volume, the name was called out.

"Look who you have chosen to support!" Draco Malfoy shouted, removing his bandanna and sunglasses with a smile. Beside him, the Lord of the Snakes finally removed his beret, grinning widely.

The witches and wizards gathered in the courtyard stared mesmerized at the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Vanished. He had not been spotted in weeks, and in that time, he had undergone some visible changes.

For one thing, he had gained weight: instead of pale, sunken cheeks, a healthy rose colour now flushed his well-rounded face. His infamous indomitable hair had receded to about an inch in length, making the scar on his forehead stand out like never before. And he was grinning like a loon.

"Harry! What have you done to yourself?!" Millicent charged at the stubbly-haired wizard and stroked across the pathetic remains of his wonderful black hair with wide-opened eyes. "Ooh, that tickles."

Draco shot her a jealous glare and pulled Harry close to himself.

"Five hundred phials of Polyjuice potion require a lot of hairs, you know," Harry explained, looking at the many copies of himself with amusement that stumbled disorientedly around the courtyard, some of them shocked, some amused, some obviously still not entirely sure they were not just dreaming all this.

"What is the aim of this move?" Harry heard the accented, but curious voice of a German reporter from below the stage.

"It's quite simple," he answered cheerfully. "I have often made the experience, lately, that people are not ready to believe I am not evil; and me being the leader of the Black Snakes just made them even more uncomfortable. I have seen some wizards take great risks to join us - only to turn around and leave when they realized that I was the leader.

"Either they did not want to join a 'madman', or they refused to believe that I am indeed Harry Potter, and felt made to look a fool..."

"And how is the Polyjuice potion supposed to cure that?"

This time, it was Draco who answered. "Harry here has a love for the less-than-serious. He is convinced that something you have laughed about will never again seem truly scary. Look around you!"

The reporter did, and within a very short time had to admit that the idea seemed to have some merit. Just now a Harry Potter in pale pink robes was walking past, carrying a white poodle in his arms. Another one stood over there in ragged Muggle clothing, smoking a fag; while a third was narrowing his eyes in annoyance, incapable of reading the business card another Harry Potter in fine business robes was holding out to him. More and more people noticed the absurdity of the spectacle playing out before their eyes. Harry Potters of every kind were bustling around the courtyard, one stranger than the next.

Draco and Harry were stood arm in arm on the platform, watching the colourful goings-on with wide grins along with everyone else.

"Dear, where are you?" a Harry Potter in a blue Muggle dress, wearing a bow in his hair, was calling out in a honeyed voice.

"I'm over here, darling," came the answer from a Harry with much too tight pants at half-mast who seemed in danger of bursting out of his narrow waistcoat and was trying desperately to pull a hat obviously made for a much smaller person from his head.

Harry and Draco looked at each other and broke out in peals of laughter.

Suddenly, a silky, dark voice rang out from behind them, magically enhanced as Harry's had been. "We have a special show interlude planned for you to celebrate this important day," Severus Snape announced to the buoyant crowd. "Please welcome along with me: Rhianna, Morgause and Kandis, better known as theeeeeeeeee... _Weird Sisters_!"

Everyone, Harry as much as the rest of the congregation, watched in amazement as the singers appeared along with their band from behind the stage and quickly grew their shrunken instruments back to full size on the planks.

Severus smiled. _Let the party begin!_ He threw on the cape Kandis had brought for him, and grabbed a mike. Together with Kandis he intoned the first, newly covered song _"Don't cry, my childe - there's a Dark Lord for everyone"_.

And thus a new age began for the wizarding world of Great Britain: with a lot of laughter, sunshine and cheerfulness, to the bewitching sounds of the Devil's Sonata. Across them all, a large Hungarian Horntail still made its rounds, the banner merrily flapping behind it and proclaiming:

_Today: Storming the Ministry! - Premiere!_

* * *

Molly Weasley slowly passed by the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The ministry appeared utterly abandoned, but in the distance she thought she heard the sounds of a large gathering. Laughter, loud voices and scraps of music drifted toward her ears; they seemed to come from outside.

An hour ago, Bill had finally managed to neutralize the ban the Dark Lord had cast on their house. It wasn't for naught that her boy worked as a curse breaker, she thought proudly. Bill had departed at once to warn Dumbledore, while she was off to inform the ministry.

She hesitantly passed through the doorway to the inner courtyard. She had last been here when... when the previous dark lord had been defeated. When everyone had been celebrating the Potter boy as a hero. She bitterly remembered how she herself had hugged him and wished him all the luck in the world, as he so deserved some quiet and happiness.

Even then, he no longer seemed to appreciate her nearness as much as he used to. Back then, she had put it down to his natural bashfulness; today she knew better. He had probably been planing ever since he defeated You-Know-Who how he would take his place and destroy them all.

She grimly crossed the courtyard, looking darkly at the exuberantly celebrating witches and wizards. Harry Potter had taken from her all her sons but Bill; he had her husband's death on his conscience; and because of him, she was certain, her little girl was now a novice on Avalon and would never found a family of her own. How could there be people who were carefree enough to laugh and dance while the Dark Lord was roaming around, torturing and murdering at will?

While on the lookout for Fudge, she drew closer to the stage where the _Weird Sisters_ were presently relieved for a brief pause by a newcomer band called the _Rampaging Hippogryffs_.

And then she saw him. He might wear his hair short nowadays, and show off Muggle trousers underneath his robes, but she would know him anywhere. Laughing and joking around with two Aurors, his arm wrapped around his gay partner's shoulders, none other than Harry Potter himself stood here, _right inside the ministry's courtyard_!

Molly looked around; others seemed to have noticed Potter, as well, but nobody looked ready to do anything about the Dark Lord standing in their midst.

Rage boiled up inside Molly Weasley as the truth of the situation hit her. _He's got them all under his control! Merlin help us, he has hexed the entire ministry!_

In that moment, Molly Weasley made a decision. She may be a mediocre witch, and she'd always stuck fastidiously to the ideals of the Light. But extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary deeds.

Slowly, she took out her wand. Unnoticed by her enemy, she stood among the crowd, not five meters apart from the wizard who had butchered her life. She closed her eyes, hesitated one last time; then she found the rage inside her breast and all doubt was forgotten. She opened her eyes and sent the Dark Lord a gaze filled with pain and hatred.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

For the second time in his life, Harry Potter was hit by a green flash of light. All sounds in the courtyard died as the saviour of the wizarding world met with the killing curse and collapsed to the ground, sightless green eyes staring up at the blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I could have left it at the happy ending, but a certain red-haired mother did not approve and forced me to push this chapter just a tiny bit further. So sorry. Not. :P 
> 
> ...Before you start cursing or celebrating: consider having another look at the story tags...  
> I'll try and get the next chapter up soon.


	19. Ministry of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [I know okay](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4960340/I-know-okay) for a couple of corrections in this chapter! :)

_Now let the day_  
_Just slip away_  
_So the dark night may watch over you_

_\- 'Nocturne', Secret Garden_

* * *

Draco was engrossed in a wonderful conversation with Tonks and Moody when he felt Harry stiffening beside him. The blond turned toward his partner just in time to see the end of a green beam of light vanishing between Harry's shoulder blades.

"HARRY!!!"

The music stopped, witches and wizards broke off their conversations, everyone standing still and watching in horror as the hero and leader they had only just regained fell prey to the killing curse.

While Draco Malfoy sank to the floor, sobbing, next to his betrothed in spe (today, he'd been going to give him the ring!), Severus scanned the crowd for the Death Eater. He found - Molly Weasley, pale-faced, frozen with her wand still pointing at Harry, the confusion perfectly clear in her pale brown eyes.

"NO DAMMIT, YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Draco yelled, "FUCK YOU, POTTER, YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!!! NOT NOW, HARRY! NOT AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER, AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE ACHIEVED!"

Incapable of helping the broken boy, hundreds of witches and wizards stood in a silent circle around the two teenagers on the ground, watching the drama that would impact their own future, as well.

They had only just acknowledged that Harry Potter was not a dark lord, had trustingly put their country's future into his hands - and now he lay dead, killed by one of the fiercest warriors of the Light.

"You can't go now, Harry," Draco sobbed, "I love you."

For a few moments, silence reigned; then the Malfoy heir straightened up, his face hard and determined.

Molly Weasley retreated fearfully, was restrained by the people behind her; but the determined, furious Malfoy pointed his wand not at her, but - at the lifeless body of Harry Potter.

"I won't accept it," he growled. "You have tried to steal away from this life so many times, how could you possibly imagine that _this_ time you'll manage? If slit wrists, jumping  out of windows, the abuse from your Muggles and even the Dark Lord himself have not killed you, why do you think that a simple madwoman such as _that one_ will manage? No, I REFUSE to believe that! Do you hear me, Harry Potter? You CANNOT be dead!"

People were staring at the blond with a mixture of confusion and horror. Molly was surprised, as well; Potter had been through all  _that_ ?

Wild magic suddenly awoke around Draco, tiny flames danced on his arms and down his extended wand.

"Severus, help me!" was the last thing he said before casting a simple healing spell.

It was all he knew about healing magic, and under normal circumstances would not even suffice to set a broken arm; but the sheer force of raw magic his despair and determination had unleashed turned the spell into something Other, something larger.

It pulled on his magic, shaking him to the core. The spell wanted to take effect, but the magic it found was not enough; the young wizard would be completely burned out within seconds, and still the spell was lacking the necessary power to perform its task.

Finally Severus woke from his stupor and hurried to support his former student with another healing spell, bathing Harry's body in a blue light. Now was not the time to question the logic of this action; if he did not act, Draco would be a squib come nightfall!

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione Granger pulling out her wand next to him and speaking a highly advanced healing spell.  _Overachieving as usual_ , he thought as he often did; yet this time, the comment was entirely lacking its sting. 

The girl's spell pulsated with a soft, red light. It connected to his blue one and both spells wound around Draco's, which lay in the air like a tangible prickle, trying to suck the other spells into itself.

Tonks and Moody were the next to join in. Soon, a large part of the Black Snakes were lined up behind them, only missing the few that were stuck further back amongst the crowd.

The gathered folk looked at the spectacle entranced, no one dared move. But then, first one wizard, then another, started adding their own healing spells to the Snakes'. Spells of all levels, simple and complicated ones, of dark and white magic, even a few professional healing charms mingled with the spell Draco had started.

A young witch in Muggle clothing cast a general spell against scrapes; an Unspeakable mumbled something in Ancient Greek which materialized as a turquoise mist around his target; an old couple linked their hands and together, they cast a family spell against broken hearts.

Draco's spell absorbed all the energy and united it; soon the dead Boy-Who-Lived was glowing in all colours of the magical rainbow.

Suddenly those wizards who were still standing around as mere spectators drew back with fearful cries: the Hungarian Horntail that had been circling high above the ministry came hurtling down out of the sky toward the platform. It dropped two red-haired wizards next to the platform whom it had gathered at the fringes of the crowd, then landed on the planks itself to allow its rider to descend.

"Charlie, what the hell?" Fred asked angrily. His older brother just pointed with an expressionless face at the supine wizard in front of the stage and said: "We need to help Draco."

Fred and George, who had previously been trying in vain to reach the centre of the suddenly formed thick cluster of people, turned pale. "What...?"

Charlie threw a grim glance at his mother, Molly Weasley, who was staring wide-eyed at the three sons she had believed dead. She was still holding up the wand that had cast the killing curse on the boy who had stolen her family - or so she had thought until now.

"Mum cast _Avada Kedavra,_ " Charlie said without inflection. Molly saw the twins' faces lose all their colour. Fred raised his wand and pointed it at her. 

"Don't!" Arthur Weasley's voice now interrupted. "There are more important things now!"

Molly, Fred and George turned to where the Weasley patriarch was fighting his way through the crowd.

"Draco believes he can bring Harry back. I don't know if that's true, but if we don't help him, he, Hermione and Severus will burn themselves out! They are at the centre of this spell, if it fails, we may have a band of squibs on our hands!"

All the Weasley men looked at each other for a long moment before raising their wands as one and casting their oldest, well-guarded family spell. It was a secret healing charm passed down through their family since Merlin's times. Light yellow as sunlight shot like a tidal wave from the wands of the four Weasleys towards Harry Potter, whom they had all silently accepted into the family many years ago.

The yellow light surrounded the many colourful charms around Harry, finally meeting Draco's underlying healing spell and uniting with it. A bright flash flared up.

Draco had closed his eyes against the bright light. When he opened them again, he noticed that the colour of the healing spell had changed. Or rather, it had vanished. Just like the blending of all colours ultimately resulted in white, this last yellow spell had neutralized all the other colours.

His lover's body was now glowing in a blindingly bright, stark white light that seemed to move and pulsate like a living being. He noticed Percy Weasley joining his brothers and father and felt another wave passing through the nearly tangible magic around Harry. Draco's spell born from love had managed to force all the previous spells to work together rather than hamper each other; but it was the old magic of the family of the very woman against whose killing curse all these spells were directed that had the power to truly unite them.

Hot tears were running down Draco's cheeks as he watched Harry's body, encased in the combined healing spells of hundreds of witches and wizards, lose definition and blur before his eyes, nearly as though he was dissolving in a sea of pure energy.

He was still holding his wand pointing straight at Harry, letting all his love and all of his magic flow through it. There wasn't much left. While his love seemed to grow with every passing minute, there were limits to his magic.

He felt the world waver around him.

_Harry!_ was his last thought. Then he fell into darkness. 

* * *

Molly Weasley stared fixedly at the five members of her family trying desperately to save a man who she had believed had kidnapped or murdered them all. If they were alive... what did that mean for Potter? Was he not a murderer, after all?

She let her eyes roam over the wizards gathered around the fallen dark lord, trying to bring him back to life. With a burning sting in her breast she recognized Hermione Granger. Hadn't the girl been kidnapped by Potter, as well?

Then her eyes, already thrown open wider than her body should allow, suddenly turned glassy with tears as she recognized the boy by Hermione's side.  _"Ron!!!"_

Her son did not hear her, his entire concentration was focused on the black-haired man still lying lifelessly on the ground in front of him.

Molly's eyes were glued to Ron. There he was, her son - pale, fearful, with tears on his cheeks, yet obviously unharmed. She could not get enough of the sight.

However, before long a steep line formed on her forehead. Ron was swaying. She let her gaze wander over the other witches and wizards. The rest of her family did not look so good either. Arthur was bracing himself with one hand on Percy's shoulder, who in turn was only kept upright by the arm one of the twins had wrapped around him, leaning in his turn onto the edge of the podium.

Nearly all of the present wizards, except for a few reporters and a handful of sorcerers who preferred to stay out of trouble on principle, were pointing their wands at Harry Potter by now. And to a man, they were close to collapsing.

Molly noticed that no one paid her any mind now, she was free. With five spirited steps, she overcame the distance to her family and threw her arms around her husband.  "Arthur, stop! You are going to get yourself killed!"

Arthur Weasley looked at his wife with a face twisted with pain, letting the last remains of his magic flow into the ancient healing charm. "Better than killing someone else," he ground out.

Molly was shocked. She let her hands drop and could do nothing but watch helplessly as six members of her family worked with great determination on turning themselves into squibs.

Suddenly, Fred's legs gave way. He slid to the ground; his father, Percy and George fell with him. Molly tried to catch Arthur, but was knocked over herself by yet another falling wizard. All around the courtyard, witches and wizards were faltering and falling unconscious to the ground.

Those reporters who did not lose consciousness were clutching their quills and cameras with shell-shocked looks, trying to preserve the incredible scene for posterity. The wizarding wireless had been holding the majority of witches and wizards everywhere in Britain under its spell since the start of the rall y. Now even the last people stopped doing whatever they had been busy with before and paid exclusive attention to the reporter's trembling voice. There had never been a joint spell by so many magic users. What was going to happen?

Molly was one of about twenty people still conscious when the colour of the light around the fallen Harry Potter began to change. The white darkened. It slowly cycled through all the colours of the spectrum, densifying over the young wizard's chest as it did. Finally it turned entirely black and nearly solid.

Then it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought to myself: why make just my main characters unhappy if I can turn everyone into squibs? :P ...Just kidding. I'll try to get the next chapter done by tomorrow!


	20. In the Realm of the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs sleep anyway...? - So here's the last chapter for you!

_Though darkness lay_  
_It will give way_  
_When the dark night delivers the day_

_\- 'Nocturne', Secret Garden_

* * *

Molly was just about to turn her attention back to her unconscious family when for the second time that day, a glistening, bright light flared up.

* * *

Harry slowly opened his eyes. _What happened? Why am I lying on a hard... stone floor?!_

He tried to sit up, but an instantaneous bout of nausea made him decide to go slow. He closed his eyes once more and tried to remember what had happened. They'd been at the Ministry... He had been talking to Draco, Tonks and Mad-Eye... The _Rampaging Hippogryffs_ had been playing a metal ballad...

And then there'd been that pain between his shoulder blades. Cold, stinging, somewhat like a _Cruciatus_ , only... stronger?

_We're under attack!_

He sat up with a lurch, ignoring his aching head, and looked around. To his great astonishment, it was grotesquely quiet all around him. No battle noises, no curses, nobody shouting or crying. Also, the courtyard seemed remarkably empty of people. Not even two dozen people seemed to be left.

_What the_ _hell_ _...?_

Harry tried to fully stand up and felt a weight sliding from his lap. He curiously lowered his eyes - and saw a lifeless Draco Malfoy who had collapsed on top of him, wand still clutched in his hand.

"DRACO!!!" Panic filled him when he turned the blond on his back to check his breathing, looking for clues as to what was wrong with his partner. He sighed a prayer of infinite gratefulness to the heavens when he found a weak pulse.

Slowly he looked around. It was only now he really noticed that he was still inside the Ministry - and that the entire courtyard around him was littered with the lifeless bodies of witches and wizards! Only close to the platform, not far from where he was sitting, yet too far for him to recognize them without his contacts - they must have fallen out at some point - stood a handful of people.

What had happened here? Were all these people unconscious like Draco or were they dead? Were the people over there his enemies?

He stood up uncertainly and pulled out his wand. His voice was cold and controlled as he addressed the general direction of those left standing. "What is going on here?"

"Keep your calm, no one has died."

This answer came from an unexpected direction. Harry whirled around and saw a wizard dressed in lurid blue robes with long, silver hair and beard enter the courtyard through the Diagon Alley portal. On his shoulder was a blurry reddish blob.

_Fawkes and Dumbledore!_

No other wizard wore colours that so brutally attacked the eye and mind of the beholder. Though the headmaster's words relieved some of Harry's worries - Dumbledore had frequently gone around his back or kept the truth from him, but he had never directly lied to Harry - he was still far from appeased. He and Dumbledore weren't exactly the best of friends.

"Why are you here, old man?" Harry hissed. He went into a defensive stance, back slightly bowed, wand at the ready.

"I only just arrived," the headmaster calmly explained. "But Fawkes got here a bit earlier and has informed me of the goings-on. It seems you have been hit by an _Avada Kedavra._ " He sent a piercing look in the direction of those gathered a little further back, while Harry gasped in shock.

"And your friend, Mr. Malfoy, apparently decided that your time has not yet come; he initiated a healing charm far above his magical level, made up nearly in its entirety of Wild Magic."

Harry turned back around and threw the motionless blond a look filled with love and worry. Then he faced the head of the Order of the Phoenix again, his eyes once more hard and forbidding. "And how is it that not only Draco, but everyone else here is also lying unconscious on the ground? Is this your doing?"

Dumbledore took a few steps toward Harry, who retreated warily. The old wizard placatingly raised his hands and remained standing at a bit of a distance.

"As I said, Harry, I only just managed to get here. Your diversionary tactic -" he allowed himself some mild laughter while Harry growled impatiently - "cost me quite some time and nerves..."

"So what did happen?" Harry pressed with badly restrained impatience. He had the vague feeling that he'd be forced to kill the ever-twinkling doter if he kept prevaricating.

As though he had felt Harry's thoughts, Albus Dumbledore stopped smiling just then and focused serious eyes on Harry. "Not just Draco, but EVERY witch and wizard present in this courtyard was involved in your revivification. The deciding factor, it would appear, was some old healing magic cast by several members of the Weasley family." He frowned at the pile of red-haired men lying behind Harry.

The Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again was speechless for a moment when the implication of the words hit him. All these people _wanted_ him to live. They _cared_ about him!

He had never felt so loved and so happy.

Unfortunately, everyone who had thus supported him was currently unconscious, so his euphoria was somewhat short-lived.

"What was so special about the Weasleys' spell, and why is everyone lying around like dead?"

Dumbledore seemed pensive as he answered Harry. "The healing charm the Weasleys used is very old and powerful, but even so it would by itself not have sufficed to keep a man from crossing over into Death's realm. It certainly helped that you had not been dead for long; it may also be that your partner's love for you tied you to your body a bit longer than usual. And of course about five hundred wizards and witches gave up all their powers to call you back if I am not mistaken... Still, I assume the crucial point was the fact that involved in trying to heal you was the family of the very person who hit you with the killing curse. Family bonds have their very own kind of magic."

Dumbledore fell silent and allowed Harry time to comprehend what he had heard.

_The family of the person who... What? Which Weasley would... would... - It was HER!!! She cursed me!!! Molly! Weasley._

Harry saw red. Had he not suffered enough because of this person? Had she not stigmatized him as a dark lord and a madman? Had it not been her who offered him a family only to stab him in the back later? What had he done to...

_Oh. I suppose I'd also be pretty mad in her place,_ he noted, suddenly sobered.

After all, she must have been under the impression that he was keeping Percy under a spell, had sent Fred and George to their death in Azkaban, had kidnapped and possibly murdered Arthur and Charlie and, oh yes, sent Ginny packing - that last one may be true, but try as he might, he still could not see that he'd done anything wrong there. As for the rest, though...

He'd opened and closed his eyes a few times in thought. He was positively surprised to find that his contacts had not fallen out as he'd previously thought, but merely slipped. He focused his now considerably sharper gaze on Dumbledore once again.

"So it was Molly Weasley. Very well. But that still does not explain what happened to all these people."

Dumbledore, who had been watching the emotions flashing across Harry's face with atypical nervousness, seemed surprised by Harry's constrained and factual mien. He was certainly glad for it, though. He hastened to answer the young wizard before he could change his mind and start in on a vengeance crusade against Mrs. Weasley, after all.

"The healing charm was very powerful; had a single person, or even a group of people attempted it, they would without a doubt have burned themselves out. They would have become squibs."

Harry's eyes widened, panic overtaking his features.

_Draco! Severus! Hermione! Ron, Fred, George...!!!_

"Tell me that is not true...!" he murmured, stricken, mostly to himself; yet Dumbledore answered him.

"Nothing bad happened, Harry. Your friend may have been a bit over-eager in starting the spell, but he had the largest group of witches and wizards by his side that ever worked a joint spell, including the support of the Weasleys and the love of your bizarre resistance group, if I may call them that..."

"So they are only exhausted? No-one is a squib?"

"Everything is just fine."

Harry jumped at Dumbledore. The old wizard raised his wand in shock - and confusedly lowered his hand again when the black-haired young man pulled him into a fierce hug.

Harry didn't care that he was hugging one of his worst enemies. Dumbledore had spoken the words he had never heard, yet longed for his entire life: _Everything is fine._ He was fine, Draco was fine, everyone was fine! No more madmen were lurking, waiting to kill him, no one had come to harm because of him, and he was nearly certain that even Albus Dumbledore did not mean any harm to him just now.

A bit embarrassed by his own impulsiveness, Harry let go of the old man, took a step back and smoothed out his robes. He nervously chewed on his lower lip as he looked at Dumbledore. "Professor? Do you still mean to lock me up in the loony bin?"

Dumbledore sighed. "No Harry, I do not. Though it pains me to admit it, I have made a few grave errors these past few years. Since your graduation speech, I have come to understand that my special training alone would have sufficed to make you hate me - and it could have driven just about anyone mad. That it didn't do that is a miracle I have not truly appreciated until today. Harry, I'd like to ask your forgiveness."

Harry stared at the old wizard, speechless. _Dumbledore admitting his mistakes? That I lived to see this...!_ He vigorously shook his head to escape from his stupor.

Dumbledore's shoulders sank, his posture grew stooped; suddenly, every single one of his probably more than a hundred years of age was plainly visible.

Harry was confused; then he realized that the old wizard had apparently taken his head-shaking for an answer. He laughed softly.

Dumbledore looked at him out of dull eyes.

"Albus Dumbledore, of course I forgive you. If there is one thing I learned these past months, it is that I am incapable of holding a grudge. I just can't do it. Not against Hermione or Ron, Sirius, Mister Weasley... Merlin, I even made friends with Rita Skeeter!"

Dumbledore looked at the laughing face of the boy before him. He was astonished to note the confidence and self-assurance in the eyes of his former student. Never in all his years at Hogwarts had he seen him like this. There was no doubt about it, Harry Potter had finally found his place in this world. And that change was down to none other than Draco Malfoy.

What would have become of the wizarding world's saviour had he not found this love? Would he as readily forgive an old man who had only ever used him for his own ends? Would he even be alive today?

Dumbledore did not know. But he was happy that things had turned out so well in the end. Just now, the people lying all over the courtyard were beginning to stir; soon, Draco Malfoy would wake, as well. After the impressive show of his feelings for Harry he had given today, Dumbledore was almost certain that those two were meant for each other and would stay together until the end of their lives.

He would personally ensure that people like Molly Weasley did not hinder them in their pursuit of happiness. Whether Azkaban, St. Mungo's or the safe custody of her family remained to be seen; either way, it shouldn't be too hard to keep her out of the raven-haired wizard's life for good, from whom, starting today, he once more expected great deeds and a positive impact on the wizarding world.

_And who knows, maybe I'll even be so lucky and get an invite to their wedding..._

"I forgive you," Harry repeated, "but see to it that you do better in the future."

Dumbledore nodded and extended his hand. "Peace?"

"I never wanted anything else. Peace." Harry took the offered hand.

* * *

Draco woke up.

He blinked. What had happened...?

_The band... the Ministry... the_ Avada Ke-

_HARRY!_

He lurched to his feet and looked around with wild eyes. They found Harry - grasped tightly by none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM, YOU DAMN OLD ****!!!!"

With this war cry, Draco tackled the bewildered old headmaster.

Harry could only look on, shaking his head, as Draco raised his wand and let loose with a range of creative and outlandish curses. The stream of curses was interrupted here and there by his shouts of:

"This is all your fault!"

"What the hell were you thinking...!"

"And those _Crucios_ , Merlin! He wasn't even of age yet!"

…

"Erm, Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think he can understand what you're saying any longer..."

Draco looked down with great surprise at the tiny red-neon green-orange-pink speckled begonia stumbling about at his feet on stork’s legs and singing "We wish you a merry Christmas..." with a drunken slur.

"Umh."

"Must you always overdo it so?" Harry said with a smile.

  


THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks! Well, except for a tiny epilogue which will go up shortly. By the way, this last part about Draco and Dumbledore was not originally part of the story, but was caused by a review from paranucki (now [Portgas.D.Rouge](https://www.fanfiction.net/~PortgasDRouge)). So kudos to her! :D  
> ...I kinda find sad endings more impressive than happy ones in many cases, but let's be real: With a story such as this, it totally wouldn't have fit. :P  
> Hope you enjoyed it. If so, please remember to feed the author. ^^ 
> 
> A BIG THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO'S READ AND REVIEWED! I really appreciate it! :D  
> \- Dime


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Fluff and MPreg. Don't like, don't read - the plot itself is finished, so you're not missing anything. ; )

_~ Two Years Later ~_

It was 11 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

Birdsong drifted in through the open window. Friendly rays of sunshine kissed the large bed with the forest green sheets, bathing its occupants in warm yellow light.

Two eyes opened and met the gaze of their equally open counterparts.

"Good morning."

"And a good morning to you."

"It really is. When was the last time we slept in?"

"That's been more than a few weeks..."

"Do you think we're past it?"

"I'll have to ask Hermione, she read up on it all last year - personal interest, you know... But I'm optimistic that the worst of it is now behind us."

"I'm glad. I don't much like our bathroom any more..."

Harry laughed softly.

Then his eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Since we're finally well-rested for once - don't you think we should make use of this opportunity, while we still can?"

Draco smirked. "You mean while we're still able to hug each other unhindered?"

Harry smirked right back. "Exactly."

* * *

Not five minutes later, a black wolf and a jaguar were running across the extensive property on the Breton coast with rapid, fluid motions. They dove into the forest and romped around for a while, finally slowing down to rest a little beside a narrow river dispersing into a quiet pond.

Harry and Draco transformed back. And grinned upon seeing each other.

Both were still wearing their pyjamas.

"We won't be needing these, will we?" Draco asked mischievously.

"One second," Harry stopped him. With a couple of wandless spells he secured their quiet little space against intruders of any kind.

Then he grinned at Draco. "There. I did not want to risk Hermione walking in on us 'entirely by accident' like last time..."

Draco snorted. "I will never understand how that woman could have ended up anywhere but in Slytherin."

_Could it be somehow connected to certain prejudices against Muggleborns?,_ Harry thought, but did not say it out loud. What he wanted today was not a debate on long overcome prejudices, but a peaceful and fulfilling weekend with his husband. 

Softly he smiled at Draco while they undressed each other. Then he stepped into the river  and waded  through the waist-deep water out into the pond.

" Aiie, cold!" Draco complained behind him. 

Harry knew the blond was only making a fuss to give Harry a nice point of attack. In truth, Draco enjoyed the cold, clear air of this autumn morning as much as Harry did, not to mention the still summery-warm water from their hot spring that was washing around their legs. 

Harry took the hint. "Oh, my poor dragon is cold. Shall I warm you up?"

They had now reached the pond proper and Harry swam with quick strokes to the little island in its middle where he lasciviously spread out his naked body for Draco's perusal. 

The blond followed him with elegant, slow strokes, giving Harry time to admire the picture he made  as he parted the still water of the pond with his  nicely toned arms.  Steam was curling around his head and condensing on the blond locks. 

Dripping wet, he pulled himself up onto the tiny island next to Harry and whispered: "Oh yes, please warm me up."

He did not have to ask twice; Harry went to work on his husband with both hands right away. He drew circles on the other man's back, massaged his legs, his arms, and even his temples, until Draco was thoroughly relaxed. 

S oon, he added a third, a fourth and a fifth hand. 

"Show-off," Draco mumbled contentedly. 

Harry laughed. Then, bending down close to Draco's ear, he whispered conspiratorially: "In a few months you will be overjoyed that I have finally mastered this spell, too. We'll have our hands quite full..."

"Perish the thought."

They shared another laugh.

Harry absentmindedly kept massaging the wonderful body that belonged entirely to him. Before his escape from St. Mungo's, he'd never have dreamed of one day having all this...

"Harry?" Draco's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yes, what is it?" Harry asked with concern. Draco's voice seemed a bit tense.

"If you keep this up, you soon won't be able to get much more out of me today," Draco pressed out through clenched teeth.

Harry followed Draco's pointing index finger with his eyes and broke out in peals of laughter upon discovering that one of his hands had begun massaging the bottom of the blond's feet.

Draco had highly sensitive feet.

Harry had heard it said that a man's foot held pressure points for every part of his body. Pressure applied to the correct part of the foot could loosen cramps all the way up in the shoulders. In theory, it should even be possible to induce an orgasm just by massaging the correct pressure points.

Harry did not know if there was any truth to that theory. Personally, he could care less about things done to his feet; for Draco, on the other hand, the entire sole of either foot seemed to be one massive erotic pressure point. Harry just had to brush his fingers against them and the blond would start to squirm and grow hard.

This thought finally pulled Harry decisively out of his daydreams.

The grass was soft, but not soft enough that Draco could still be finding his prone position all that comfortable.

"I can't let you hog all the fun for yourself," he said brightly, gently pulling Draco up by the shoulders and, kneeling, entangled him in a long, involved kiss. Steam rose around them from the pond. Harry was glad they so rarely had non-magical visitors. A hot spring on the Northern coast of France would have been mildly suspicious.

As it was, though, he was able to sit here, feeling the warm mist around him, and kiss his lover until they both took leave of their senses.

Which would not take long today.

Draco was already primed by the unplanned foot massage to the point that he was quite ready to pierce Harry with more than just looks right this moment.

Harry, for his part, had been frustrated for days because the sleepless nights and usually unpleasant awakening in the morning had been draining both of them so much they barely had the energy to get any pleasure out of each other any more.

Today, though, both were brimming with energy and a thirst for action.

Harry gasped in surprise when Draco purposefully slid a hand between his legs and with sure motions proceeded to put him into the same tense state he found himself in.

With raised lances, the two knights on their little island considered each other.

"You?" Harry asked.

"No, you."

"Okay."

Draco easily lowered himself onto his back and _accioed_ a small jar from their bedroom, which he then extended to Harry. Harry dipped one hand into the jar, then inserted his well-lubed digits between Draco's arse cheeks.

Draco moaned.

Harry's progress seemed incredibly slow, yet he could not claim to dislike it. Each motion his husband made fanned the fire inside his body to greater heat.

Before Harry had gotten even three fingers inside him, Draco's hands started grasping at tufts of grass and ripping them out. "Oh, Harry...!"

Harry's hand trembled with desire at the sound of Draco's voice. With a bit more urgency than before, Harry slid his third finger as far as possible into Draco. Tight warmth engulfed him and he could not prevent a little moan from escaping him.

"Don't wait any longer..." Draco breathed.

Harry whole-heartedly agreed. Gently raising his lover's hips until they were positioned right in front of the erection jutting out at an angle from his own middle, he slowly pressed forward.

Draco screamed when the hard tip breached him. It was not a cry of pain, though.

His legs twined around Harry and pulled the raven-haired man forward, completely sheathing him inside Draco in one quick thrust.

They both moaned.

Harry began with slow motions, building up his rhythm until he was thrusting into Draco with fierce strokes. Steam played around the two young men like a lover's hands while they moved towards the peak together.

"Draco!!!"

"Harry!!!"

Finally, they collapsed one atop the other in sated exhaustion.

* * *

"Draco?" Harry asked next to Draco's ear.

"Hm?" the other answered sleepily.

"Let's get some more sleep."

Draco gladly agreed. For who knew when they'd next get the opportunity...

Harry rolled half off of Draco to take the pressure off the slim body and off both of their bellies.

"What did Poppy say to you when we saw her yesterday?"

"Merlin, I haven't even told you yet!" Harry sat up quickly, shocked by this realization. He focused on Draco with a strangely intense look.

"What?" Draco asked, alarmed.

"We will have _three_ children: I'm having twins!!" Harry beamed. 

Draco's face lost all its colour. 

"You too?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, that's the epilogue done. : ) I hope you liked this version of "19 Years Later". ^^ (And they *still* haven't learned to be efficient and not do everything double...! *sadly shakes head*)
> 
> Let me once again shout out a big THANK YOU to everyone who has made this translation so much fun for me by letting me know it's being read and appreciated. :D You guys are wonderful!


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